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moralesispunk · 1 year

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Claraste (Din Djarin x Female Witch! Reader)

Previous chapter / Fic Masterlist

Summary: Din stays at the farm for longer than ever before, giving the both of them time to think about what life could be like if he stayed

Warnings: smut, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, talk of contraceptive tea, feelings, this is third person but there are no descriptions of the witch other than using she/her pronouns so I have labelled as reader insert in the hope it can come across that way (although please tell me kindly if not and I will update to x oc), canon typical violence

Word Count: 4.3k

Din had stayed for longer than ever before. Two whole weeks where the walls they had thrown up between them began to crack and splinter until they could finally dream of a life he could - would - build here.

The morning after the first night had been the only sense of reality they gave into, a contraceptive tea slipping past her lips as she leaned against the uneven wooden rail around the cottage porch while watching on as Din got to work weeding around the edge of her flower patch. One day was all that was said as the tea steeped in the delicate mug and Din nodded, his hand sweeping from her hip only covered in a thin slip dress to her low belly as he kissed her cheek.

Kissed.

Her fingers ghosted over her lips that still felt bruised in the bright light of day from how they had kissed the night before, like it was the first and last time they would ever get the chance to give in to the temptation. Until now, Din’s helmet had been the last barrier they had kept up between them and now that it was gone…

The sun caught his dark head of hair as he stood up from kneeling by the flower patch and wiped his forehead with the back of his hand as he turned to look back at her, his face still mostly covered by the frown she had heard in his voice for years but his eyes holding a softness she had yearned for.

Din had never said out loud that he had also let himself dream of a quieter, steadier life and for as long as she had known him - from the second time he had visited her here - she knew that he was keeping it locked up inside his chest for protection. At first it was a fools dream - a Mandalorian thinking he could ever be the kind of man who would live the life of a dutiful husband and father on a quiet stretch of land on some forgotten planet and a witch thinking that there was anything other than a lonesome life where she was but a page in the novels of others, healing them or feeding them before they went onto their adventures, written in the stars - but now… Now ten years had gone by where he would return at least twice a rotation of Terra and he would slip into her life like he had never left, telling her stories of the planets he had seen and the people he had met, but they were growing tired and she felt it in her bones.

She loved Din more than she had loved anyone, but with that love came the yearning for a full life. The yearning for a husband to wake up to every day who would kiss her bare shoulder as she woke up like Din had done this morning. Who would help her on the farm. Who would listen to the made up adventures she had in her mind and would make promises of showing her even an inch more of the galaxy than she had ever seen. Who would hold her, cherish her, let her love him, perhaps one day raise children who knew what love was like, just as she had as a child when she watched her own parents.

She knew they would have to give themselves more than they ever had before - whether by finally giving in to how their hearts and souls had twined round one another over the years or to let go, let each other move on.

What was between them was a love like that created between Astra and Terra. Terra had watched the bright star - Claraste - every night like the rest of the stars until one night it came hurtling towards her and chipped Terra right out of her arms.

She had watched Din like any other traveller on his first visit, cautiously and with interest, and then every time after that until… until they were more.

Even if it made it harder in the end, she told herself that she would enjoy what she could for now. That she would ask him before he left, and not a second sooner, and it was easy enough when he dropped whatever tools were in his hand and she left the mug abandoned by her side as he stalked across the farm towards her, his knees bending and his arm wrapping around the backs of her thighs as his mouth crashed to hers and he carried her inside.

*****

Two weeks, longer than ever before, and the pain in her chest ached harder than usual as he finished tying up his bag and turned to her.

His helmet was still off, perched on the middle of the table and waiting to be slipped on the second he was ready to go, and she found her eyes racing across his face to commit every last bit to memory. The dark brown of his eyes and the tiny glimmer of gold around the edge. The bump in the ridge of his nose and the scar that ran across it. The pout of his bottom lip. The lines of a hard life that edged his eyes.

“I’m going to visit the child,” he said, his hand flexing and releasing by his side.

“Tell him I said hello,” she replied, her voice hollower than he had ever heard it before and he found his legs carrying him across the room before his mind had even caught up, his hands holding the sides of her face.

“Something is wrong.” There was no question in his words and it only made her chest ache more from how well he knew her.

Her hands raised to cover his and slipped them from her face to where she instead held them between their bodies.

“Yes and no.” His brows pinched together and she sighed. “I’ve always accepted this life for what it is, Din. I was never angry that my parents had been murdered, never sought revenge for their lives that were stolen away and mine that was displaced. I’m glad I didn’t, I don’t think I have it in me to be vengeful, but… I can’t sit by and let my life go by without doing something.

“I love you, Din,” she said, and the way he reacted to hearing those words for the first time - his mouth falling open and his shoulders softening - lodged under her ribs and right by her heart as she continued to talk. “No matter what we decide, I will always love you, but I need…” She trailed off with a sigh.

“More,” Din finished for her and she nodded.

“I know I can’t ask you to promise me anything here and now but… when you come back I need you to have an answer for me, Din. It’s the only thing I’ve ever asked you.”

His thumb brushed across her knuckles, dark eyes flicking back and forth between hers as he swallowed heavily and nodded. “I swear it.”

It wasn't a yes - or a no - but the unease was forgotten when his mouth crashed against hers, her wrists tangling behind his neck and his hands squeezing and roaming her body. His palms weighed heavy on the bottom of her back and back of her neck as he walked them towards the kitchen table and his tongue pressed into her mouth.

When her back met the edge of the table he pulled away long enough to lift her dress up and over her head, his mouth kissing down her neck and shoulder as he lifted her onto the steady oak surface and with a palm in the centre of her chest he laid her down against it and remained towering over her.

It took everything in him not to rip his clothes from his body and fill her now, instead taking his layers off slowly as he kissed and touched every inch of her beautiful body beneath him, marvelling in how her eyes tracked each movement with her bottom lip pulled between her teeth until her entire body was covered in goosebumps and she wrapped her hand around his cock, tugging it once in a way that wasn’t painful but made him hiss - and her smirk - nonetheless.

His palm wrapped around hers, holding her still as he raised an eyebrow down at her and he had to stop his knees from buckling as he watched the shiver wreck through her body - her chest heaving in need and anticipation as he gathered her wrists in his hand and held them against the table above her head.

“I have the chance to taste you once more before I leave,” he said as he bent to kneel before her spread legs, his forefinger and thumb spreading her open and his warm breath fanning her when he spoke again. “I won't be leaving till I take that chance.”

His shoulders kept her thighs open for him, the scruff around his jaw tickling her soft skin as he licked slowly up until his lips wrapped around her clit and he sucked. He did this again and again, her thighs tensing and releasing over his shoulders.

When her head rolled to the side and her back arched from the table, she caught sight of Din’s reflection in the mirror peeking out from behind a chair, his strong profile kneeling between her legs and his hand-

She let out a low moan, her hips urging him closer against her as she rocked in time with his hand that stroked his cock. The sight of him on his knees before her, pleasuring himself while bringing her pleasure, was enough to thrust her over the edge and she came with a choked gasp as her thighs pressed to the side of his head and he guided her through each wave until the heel of her palm tapped his forehead.

He stood with a low growl, like it took everything in him to pull away from her, and when his body draped over hers to meet her mouth in a kiss she caught sight of his chin and bottom lip that was shining with her before she could taste it on her tongue.

With his hand planted by her head and the other palming her hip, she reached between their bodies and lined him up as he rocked his hips once and slid inside her fully. They groaned together, their kiss not ending until she took his face in her hands and pulled back enough to look into his eyes before looking down to where their bodies met as he continued to thrust into her.

“More, Din. I need more-”

In an instant he had slipped from her, lifting her body off of the table and settling her on the floor where she stood on her toes and bent over the table as he slipped inside her once more.

With his hands gripping her hips and her body bent over the table, she felt him spearing his cock inside her so deeply that she couldn't barely gasp a breath. Her nails raked down the wood and she pushed her hips back to meet him thrust for thrust, her mind completely empty of any worries about her past or their future until all she could feel was Din, Din, Din…

She hasn't even realised she had been chanting his name like some prayer to lost Gods until his chest was pressed to her back and his lips brushed the shell of her ear.

“I’m here, I’m right here.”

His thrusts slowed and instead he moved slow and deep, his fingers slipping over where they met and deftly circling her clit as his mouth slanted over hers the second she turned her head to meet him in a kiss.

She never wanted it to end, and from the way Din had built them up before letting them fall back until they were both slick with sweat she knew he was thinking the same. He did it again and again until the coil was wound so tight that she was certain there was no stopping her from falling over the edge and so she did, her moans high pitched and swallowed by Din’s ferocious kiss as he fell over the edge with her.

She was so consumed by wave after wave, crash after crash of pleasure that she could barely feel the table that was digging into her hips until bruises would no doubt be forming.

They kissed until he softened inside her and slipped out, his mess slipping down the inside of her thighs as their kissing slowed until only his forehead was resting against hers and his breath was fanning her chin.

Her eyes fluttered closed as he kissed down her back, reaching for a cloth and cleaning her gently and taking the moment of peace to let his eyes roam her face once more. It was the same face he had seen for the first time those ten years ago, a few more lines by the side of her eyes and a few grey hairs - ones he had counted under the moonlight the night before when she had thrown her hand up and proclaimed she had at least a dozen, much to his amusement.

They said few words as they passed each other the clothes that had been stripped before and his cheeks were still flushed pink as he lifted the helmet from the table, her chest still slick with sweat that made him want to lick across the skin visible from where her dress was still untied.

“Din, I-” She stopped as soon as his eyes met his, her bottom lip pulling between her teeth and she jerked her chin in a nod - holding something back like she had already said too much to say even more. “Tell the kid I said hello.”

He nodded, his helmet slipping over his head with practised ease before he lifted his hand and held her cheek, his thumb stroking across the round fullness. “I will. And I will return, I swear it.”

Still no yes or no, no answer for their future that lay in the balance, but it was enough for now as he picked up his bag and began the walk back across the farm. He didn't look back until he reached the edge, finding her still at the top of the steps with her arms wrapped around her waist and her chin lifting in a wordless goodbye as he did the same for now.

****

It had been three months since Din left, not long by any stretch when compared to some of the breaks between his visit before, but ever since his shadow had disappeared through the thick trees surrounding her land she had found herself searching for him on the horizon every morning and night.

This morning was no different, yet as she opened her door and looked out to the tree line she felt an unease she had never felt on the sanctuary of her farm before. Her palms grew sweaty and the back of her neck prickled in awareness but at what she couldn't tell. She found herself spending the day collecting essentials from around her home - a few trinkets that caught her eye and pulled at her heart too - and had even packed them into a bag no matter how stupid she felt.

It’s nothing, she told herself again and again and yet still she climbed onto her hands and knees and found a bag that had been tucked beneath her bed, packing it to the brim until the sun began to set.

If for nothing else, the long walk she took to the stream after the bag had been tied up and tucked by her door was more of a distraction than a necessity since the well by her house had been filled by rain the week before. She had gone slower than usual too, finding plants and mushrooms she had pocketed with the intention to dry out when she got home, but when she made it to the edge of her farm and stopped the tune she had been humming she heard the heavy sets of footsteps rushing behind her.

Not taking a second to think, she dropped the bucket full of water to the ground and ran.

Her feet hit the freshly farmed land harder and faster than ever before, faster than when she was a child and ran through the bare, damp land of her home planet alongside the only friend she can remember - Beron, a freckled faced boy with bright red hair who would make her laugh as he chased her through the thin lifeless forest pretending to be whatever monster their parents had told them stories of the night before.

But she didn't feel like laughing now. It was only fear that raged through her veins as she bounded up the steps of her cottage and fled inside before slamming the door behind her. She could barely hear the men’s laughter over the blood pounding in her ears and she let her body slide down the door, crawling to the edge of her bed where Din had made her hide a blaster years ago.

He had practised with her a few times over the years, finding old trees to use as aim, but he had refused to leave her without her having some sort of protection against any raiders who could stumble across her farm. She had argued against it at the time but had never been more glad for the cool metal that her hand curved around as she pulled it from between the mattress and wall and crawled back to the window.

“Come out little witch,” a rough voice called out to her and a few of the other men laughed, horrible laughter that made her eyes prick with tears.

She held the cool metal against her chest, squeezing her eyes shut as her whole body shook and she silently called out into the galaxy for Din, the name of the only person she wanted - needed - and his name roared in her mind like she could call to him wherever he was.

****

Every time Din approached Terra, the same wave of calmness washed over him. His shoulders inched down from his ears, his brow unfurrowed, his mind stopped racing. It's like the kid knew where they were going too despite only being here twice betore; his small hands pressed against the glass and his breath fogging it up as Din began the descent over the trees.

The kid cooed and Din huffed a laugh.

“Yeah. She missed you, too.”

He landed his ship - one a lot smaller than the Crest that had cleared a wide circle of land for his arrival every time - flicking off every button as the engines went from roaring to silent and he patted the small pocket of his belt to check the ring of beskar one final time.

It was never an important part of Mandalorian tradition to give jewellery as part of a promise, but he had seen the ring she wore in a necklace around her neck and she had told him how it belonged to her mother given by her father. He knew that coming back with an answer he had to prove it more than just words - he had to show her that despite needing more time before they could settle in any one place, he would be the man to give her that life.

But the second Din landed on Terra, he knew something was wrong. With the soles of his boot on the mossy ground and his hand raised to stop Grogu from climbing down any further, he scanned around him until he could find what was wrong.

There was almost so much wrong that Din had to grip the edge of the ladder to stop himself from keeling over with nausea. The moonlight felt dull, the wind howled when it was usually quiet, the grass was a lifeless kind of green… Everything had the hairs on the back of his neck standing on edge and his hand reaching for his blaster as the other tucked Grogu safely into the bag already hanging from his shoulder.

The walk to the farm was one he has done more times than he could count but he had never felt like this while doing it, never gripped his blaster and took each step with such care like he did as he rounded the last line of trees.

His heart was in his throat as he took in the scene before him.

Raiders - twelve of them dressed in black - circling the cottage like prey waiting to pounce. Some of them held ageing blasters, others simple sticks that had been whittled down to a sharp point, three of them held burning stakes that were flickering towards the thatched roof.

“Come out little witch,” one of them - the leader - snarled. He took one step towards the door, then another, and before Din could move he caught the glimmer of silver in the moonlight.

A blaster - his blaster that he had tucked between her mattress and wall and begged her - with her hands in his - to use if anyone caused trouble, was tucked in the corner of the window and aimed directly at the man.

“Don’t take another step,” she called back, her words steady to the ears of a stranger but laced with fear he had never heard before as someone who recalled the cadence of her voice every night before he slept.

The man took no heed, his boots crunching one more step before a red blast shot from the window and the man collapsed to a heap on the ground. Din turned as quickly as he could, setting the child behind a tree and pointing a shaking finger in his direction,

“Stay here. Don’t come out until I call for you.”

He only waited long enough for Grogu to cower back against the tree before Din took off running towards the blasts and fire that had erupted. He watched as she defended her home to no end, fighting off brutes twice - three times - her size as they tried to take hold with one now dragging her out of the cottage. Her eyes met his across the farm in shock, widening for a second long enough to be distracted as one of the men took an off-centre shot that grazed along her hand and forearm and she hissed at the burn.

The rage that flowed through Din was like none he felt before - not when he was a helpless child and his parents were murdered, not when he was a young man with more emotion than he knew what to do with, not when Grogu was taken and he felt more panic than rage. No, these men were fighting a losing battle as Din slashed through them and up the steps - these men who were trying to hurt the person who was more his than anyone in the universe. He tucked her behind him as he fought against the ten men left after he took down the one still on her porch to defend both her and the cottage.

She took down two with steady aims he had made her practice and Din easily took down the other eight with shots from the blaster and slices of the saber, but it was too late for the cottage. He gripped her wrist and tried to pull her down the steps, away from the flames engulfing her home as she beat at his arm and shoulder with a fist until she managed to slip free and race inside.

He bellowed her name, his foot barely over the threshold before she came running back out with a back tucked under her arm and her hand over her mouth as she coughed against the smoke. His hand wrapped around hers and he dragged her to the middle of the field, no matter how hard she tried to dig her heels in and turn back again.

By the time they reached the middle of the field - far enough away for him to deem them safe as he called out to the kid - he took her face in his hands and looked into the eyes where all life was seeming to drain from.

“Are you hurt? Are you okay? Are-”

She waved him off, letting her bag fall to the ground and soon following it as she sat and stared on at the fire.

She sat in the middle of the field with Din and the child watching on behind her as the home she had built burned to ash. She had nothing but the small bag beside her, one she had the unnamed urgency to pack today.

It had some clothes, some medicine, some things that she held dear to her heart that perhaps were not the most practical weight to be adding to an already heavy bag. Everything else… She watched it burn until the sun began to rise and the smoke went with it. She watched it until the silent sobs gave way to steady to tears to the emptiness in the hollow of her chest that made her so tired there was nothing to do but collapse to the ground, letting sleep take over as Din called her name, shaking her shoulder to try and rouse her using a name he had only called her once before.

“Rion’nag.”

#din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin x female reader #din djarin x oc #mandalorian #din djarin #mando #the mandalorian #mandalorian x reader #mandalorian x you #din djarin x y/n #mando x you #mando x reader #mandalorian fic #din djarin fic

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wrathkitty · 9 months

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Short Debts Make Long Friends - Chapter 17

“I hear lightsabers,” you randomly announce.

Lightsabers? The only possible source of such a noise is switched off and presently hanging from his belt.

“Lightsabers,” you repeat. “Like Kylo Ren’s having a tantrum? And also the smoke alarm?”

“Who’s Kylo Ren?” Din asks, even more confused.

A silly smile breaks across your bloodstained face and you lean in, whispering confidingly, “He’s the chosen one…”

He ducks down to take a closer look at you, truly baffled now. You are clammy and pale, but even more alarming are your eyes. The pupils are mismatched, one shrunk to the size of a pinpoint, the other fully dilated.

You peer back at him solemnly, gaze vacant and fever bright. “I think I have to go.”

Oh, it’s long past time to go to the med center, but at least it seems like he won’t have to convince you.

“I know,” he says in a rush. He slides an arm under your knees and instructs, “Hold onto my neck – ”

“No…” You shove clumsily at him, but you are not trying to push him away; you want him to pay closer attention. “I mean I think I have to go back.”

Din freezes, halfway in the process of draping your arm across his shoulders.

I think I have to go back.

Earth.

You mean Earth.

Din crushes you against his chest without a thought to the bruises that are sure to be left on you afterwards. He knows bruises, understands them and how to fix them, but this, whatever cosmic error it was that swept you into his world and threatens to wrench you away from him now – he had promised to get you home, but how can he try to fix something when he wants it to stay broken?

Chapter 17 - This wouldn't have happened if you'd just gotten me a flamethrower

Short Debts Make Long Friends - An overeducated, underpaid millennial finally gets to go on her first adventure.

Desperate PSA: Please consider throwing all your friendly neighborhood creators a bone and reblog. Likes don’t signal boost, and we’re doing all this shit for free.

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#short debts make long friends #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandolorian x you #the mandalorian #baby yoda #mando #din djarin x reader #din djarin x female reader #din djarin x oc #din x reader #din djarin #din djarin x original female character #mando x reader #mando x original female character

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livingemkayde · 11 months

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Twin Moons - Chapter Seven: The Song

Series Summary:

when you meet a Mandalorian on the sands of Tatooine, for some reason you both can't stay away. even through all the pain—you keep coming back to each other. it's all you know how to do.

Chapter Seven: The Song

Notes: Ummmmm. No notes for this chapter other than ur not fucking ready. PLEASE ENJOY.

Pairing: Din Djarin x Force Sensitive f!reader

Series warnings: *Although this chapter may not contain graphic content, this story is rated 18+ due to graphic depictions of violence and sexual scenarios.*

Warnings: This chapter is rated mature (18+) for graphic sexual content (Fingering, f!receiving). Not much else.

Summary: He trails his hand up your leg, bunching the fabric along with it, his touch soft on your skin. He reaches further, passing by your knee and you close your eyes, bite your lip and involuntarily let out a small whimper. His head snaps up to meet yours when your soft sounds echo through the room, but it only spurs his hand up.

Masterlist Chapter Five Chapter Six

Some months later.

Beep…

Be–

“Fuck,” you mumble under your breath as you slam your hand down on your alarm clock.

You sit up from your bed in the dark room. It's late. You can tell. You see the strewn clothes around your room and your blaster and viroblade sitting at the foot of the bed on a chest. You rub your tired eyes and move to use the refresher.

As you wash your hands the bite of cold water shocks your system. Fuck. You groan, finish drying your hands quickly and move towards the bedroom to put a sweater on. As you move to the closet, you see it in the corner of your eye. The black fabric seems to glow to your sight in the darkness of the room. You push it to the back of your mind.

You get dressed quickly, and step out into the dark night sky and make your way to the cantina. You pull your hair into a small bun at the base of your neck—baby hairs falling loosely down your neck and around your face. It's a cold night, the wind rips through your skin and you brace your jacket further around your body.

You enter the cantina, travel to the back and put your apron on to begin the night shift.

Bartending—what a fucking joke.

But you needed credits.

After Davin—his followers seemed to scatter in the wind when someone tipped the New Republic he was dead. They raided the place, ransacked the spice, released the prostitutes working, freed the prisoners you didn’t even know he was harboring in the dungeons.

After that, you fled to the upper levels, looking for work in a much more approachable cantina. A cantina hired you for bartending. He said you were pretty enough that he would let it slide if you didn’t have any experience.

You met someone who worked with the New Republic and made friends with him—a regular at the bar. Just to get them off your back until everything died down. And it did die down. No one ever sought to question you—to the New Republic, you were some lowly servant girl looking for work after escaping her home planet. No one would know and you would keep it that way.

The man you befriended, Leo, offered you housing for cheap, in a complex near his.

He was okay—you guess.

He was some pilot for the New Republic but was decommissioned after an injury to his brain. He kept you company—no—kept you busy.

He was okay—until his touches turned lingering when he began inviting you out to late night drinks and parties going on till the early mornings.

But he was harmless.

The two of you have never talked about whatever is going on between you. There was never any need to—you felt nothing. And he was harmless. He let you push out of his hugs that lasted too long and squeezed you too tight.

But he was nice—he was fine.

His friendship allowed you to be invisible to the New Republic records and in turn the Empire. If it meant slipping through the cracks, you would put up with much worse.

He does make you laugh—not in the way the Mandalorian did.

But he certainly doesn’t make you cry.

He also never brought a flush to your face, never gave you butterflies, never asked more than you let on, never excited you. Not the way the Mandalorian did.

You think back to his shirt you saw this morning in the closet. You haven’t put it back on since Sorgan, all those months ago. You wonder if it still smells like him, or if he’s truly lost forever. It makes your heart ache, even after all this time—you wonder if it will ever stop.

You tie your apron around your waist and make your way to the bar. It should be a slow night. You know Leo will come in for a drink soon, and to talk to you.

As you watch the time pass, he enters the cantina doors and finds your eyes almost immediately. He smiles. Really smiles. That’s something you like about him—you can always tell what he’s thinking. You smile back, tight lipped and continue to make a drink for a patron seated at the bar.

When Leo approaches the counter, you excuse yourself from the other customer, and begin to prepare his usual—some spotchka the cantina gets from a backwater town. You made fun of him when he revealed it was his favorite, but he only told you it reminded him of the glory days.

Whatever that meant.

When you set the drink in front of him and place your hands on the bar, he smiles at you again.

“Hey doll.” He winks at you. The nickname seemed like overkill in the beginning—but you barely notice it now—many people have had many nicknames for you your whole life. His flirting was getting tiresome—but you always put on a fake smile in response. He’s none the wiser to your apparent lack of blush.

“Hey Leo. The usual.” You gesture to the drink in front of him and he takes it while raising the glass to you.

“What are you doing tonight?” He asks while pulling the glass from his lips.

“Just working.” You respond and start polishing glasses for more drinks. “Why?” You peer at him, he has a devilish smile on his face.

“Two tickets. Tonight. You and me,” he says coolly. More declaring the plans rather than asking.

“Where to?” You ask while prepping another glass.

“You can’t say no. I gambled away next month’s rent for these tickets.”

“C’mon just tell me,” you say, looking up at him through your lashes—a small smile on your face.

“We’re going to the Opera.”

He convinces you to go—somehow. Maybe you feel bad for him or maybe you want to get out of your room. You feel trapped in this life. Stuck in a place you were seeking to leave. It feels different even 1000 levels up, but you still feel uneasy being in one place for so long. You told yourself you should go see Ahsoka, go do anything. So you go.

He convinces you to break out an old dress, do your hair for once, put on some makeup—telling you he would be in his best suit. You dig through your closet to find a black dress that comes down to your ankles. You had bought it to attend a ball Davin made you go to. It makes your skin shiver at the thought and when it pools at your ankles, the feeling doesn’t dissipate.

You smooth the dress over your body and grab a small shawl to go over your shoulders. He knocks on your door as you grab your clutch, pinning a few fallen pieces of hair back, and make your way to the entryway.

“Hey,” he greets you. “You look really nice,” he adds, wrapping your body in a small hug and looks down at you with a smile.

You don’t feel nice. The heels you’re wearing digs at your toes and the dress keeps surfacing old memories you fought so hard to bury. But you don’t tell him that. You don’t tell him anything.

“Thanks. You too,” you reply shortly.

You enter the speeder first, he opens the door for you. He’s a gentleman. He’s sweet, nice, everything you should be settling for, but you can’t help but think about a certain beskar covered man. He floods your thoughts constantly when you’re with Leo—you don’t know why and you don’t care to think about that particular notion further.

On the way to the opera house he talks your ear off about the show, saying something about how it’s his favorite since he was a kid and wanted to take you there. It’s fucked up, but you stop listening half way through. Just absentmindedly nodding your head and look at him smiling every so often. The ride feels like it lasts forever.

When you reach the platform of the house, he holds his hand out to you, taking your silken gloves in his hand to lift you out of the speeder. You remember the Mandalorian. His hands. The way it felt to touch his gloves in your bare ones—feeling the heat of his palms sear into yours.

He leads you to your seats, the lights dim, the show begins. He claps enthusiastically throughout the show. You like it too—when you’re not fighting to keep your head from slumping to the side. It’s too long for you, too domestic, too…boring.

The lights slowly lift when the show ends, Leo jumps to his feet to clap, you join him slowly, while stealing a glance at him through the corner of your eye.

You smooth your dress over your thighs and adjust your shawl over your shoulders. The room is cold, you can feel the chill go up your spine. As you clap and look around the room, people begin to exit. You can see them filing out through the aisles. Leo got seats in the mezzanine so you place your hands on the balcony ledge and peer down into the audience below you. You watch as the people move towards the exit.

But something shiny catches your eye and momentarily blinds your vision.

No.

It can’t be.

It…can be—but surely it can’t be because what are the odds?

He’s moving against the flow of traffic. Going towards the stage, and peering around—looking left then right. When his helmet moves towards up, you duck behind Leo and let out a small squeal. You aren’t sure why. You’ve been thinking about him for months and he’s here. In the flesh. Your heart skips a beat at the thought that he might be here for you—looking for you.

Leo guides you down towards the exit, holding your hand as you make your way down the grand steps which lead out to the main entrance.

You keep looking around you, curious about his arrival at the show. Leo notices your sudden uneasy energy and asks you about it—but you simply brush it off as being tired.

He appears then, in front of you. You can see the top of his helmet as he sticks up slightly from the crowd. You continued down the staircase, vision remained locked on his T visor looking around the room and at the people passing him as they make their way towards the exit.

He looks past you, further up the staircase and when his vision finally lands on you, you stumble. Holding onto Leo’s arm for dear life, you look down, your dress getting caught on the toe of your heel. You frantically look back at him, curious as to his reaction to everything. Seeing you here. Seeing you alive. With another man—in some outfit playing dress up. You pick your dress off the toe of your shoe and quickly descend from the last staircase.

Leo follows your hasty figure. His gaze coming up to meet your eye line.

“Is that a Mandalorian? Wait—hold on—he’s dangerous.” He grabs your bicep and attempts to hold you back gently. Your pace towards the Mandalorian doesn’t falter.

You meet him in the middle of the room. He stalks towards you, the crowd parting for him as you push through. Leo follows fast after you, breaking into a small jog.

It feels like time stands still—you push and push—rude, you know. But he’s here. And he sees you. And you want to explain everything before it’s too late. Before he leaves you like you left him.

You finally reach him. He stands still before you. He looks the same. Sans a small green child at his hip. Good. You note. He’s probably with Luke.

You’re breathless as you stare at him. You move to open your mouth and say something—anything, but Leo finally catches up to your side and pulls at your waist. You notice how the Mandalorian’s helmet looks down at Leo’s hand on your body.

“Geez. You move quickly. I–” He pauses when he looks up to who you’re standing in front of. Leo suddenly straightens his posture, though he’s still not taller than the Mandalorian. His voice appears in your ear, whispering lowly as if the Mandalorian can’t hear him.

“Do you know this guy or something?”

You ignore him and his touches. Only the man in front of you matters. You step toward him. Leo’s hand falls from your waist—he’s speechless, you can tell.

“Hi,” you say dumbly. He doesn’t respond. Only nods his head back at you.

Fuck. Maybe he’s mad—pissed even. But you can make it up to him, right? Explain everything?

“What are you doing here?” You ask, still breathless.

“Bounty work.” He replies. Your heart drops for a split second. He wasn’t here for you. It was all a coincidence. But maybe it was meant to be because, Maker. His voice. It sounds the same as you remember, richer even if that’s possible. It sends you into a trance. “What are you doing here?” He continues. Your face blushes embarrassingly.

“I—” You start but Leo’s touch on your body causes you to spin to look at him. He’s ruining everything.

“We should get going.” Leo says, hand coming to find your hip now, pulling back slightly towards his own body.

You look around and suddenly realize a small crowd has formed, watching you and the Mandalorian.

Fuck.

He’s right—too much attention.

But you can’t bring yourself to walk away from him. He’s right there, and you look pretty, and seeing his helmet in the flesh makes you feel lightheaded after so many nights of imagining his image.

“Go,” he says through modulation. Almost knowing. Like he understands everything—because for some reason, he does.

“I—” you start again before Leo’s hand drags you away, and the Mandalorian continues through the crowd and disappears from your vision.

“What the fuck was that?”

Leo drags you to some back alley away from the opera house. Maybe you should be scared in this situation, but like you said before, he’s harmless.

“Just someone I knew okay? Can we just drop it?”

“You just know a Mandalorian?” He places one hand on his hip and questions you with furrowed brows.

“Yes, it was a while ago—look can we just go back?” You don’t meet his eye.

“No, what business do you have with a Mandalorian? They’re dangerous. You know that right?”

“Yes. I know. Just drop it okay? He—I have no business with him—he’s no one.” The sentence coming from your mouth stings at its blatant lie.

“I’ve never seen you like that. You were—flushed—or—I don’t know. Can you just tell me what’s going on?”

“He’s—just—Maker, can we just go? He’s nothing.” You say with a slightly more threatening tone. Leo’s eyes sink to shock and he turns around, hands coming up to his head.

“You don’t tell me anything. I give you everything. And you can’t even tell me who that was. You’re awfully flustered for him being nothing.” He says, you look at him with pity.

“He’s someone from home. Okay? Just someone I used to know. I didn’t expect to see him here.” You say while not meeting his eye. You feel bad that you’re still searching for him even in this dark alley.

Leo looks at you. Really looks at you, and you finally meet his gaze. Fuck. He looks hurt. This isn’t what you meant to happen tonight. The Mandalorain pulled you against your wishes and this is you dealing with the consequences.

“Leo stop c’mon. I promise you. He—he’s no one. ”

Another lie to add to the pile.

“Maker I—you don’t get it. Do you?” He asks, his head hanging to the side.

You stare at him shocked. You’ve never seen him worked up, let alone mad at you.

“Get what? Leo I—”

He cuts you off, bringing his lips to yours. You don’t kiss him back, but you don’t push him off. He stays pushed against your lips for a couple seconds. Then he releases his hold on you—panting against your lips.

You pull back your head slightly, trying to find his eyes. You probably look like a deer in headlights right now.

“And now you look like that.” He says, breathless, defeated.

“Like what?”

“Scared.” He replies.

“I—Leo, I-I don’t know if I wan—” “I know. I just…I just had to try.” He drops your body from his hands and steps back. You don’t know what to say.

When you don't respond, he gestures towards the street and lets out a soft, “Let’s go back.”

He walks you back to your room, eventually. He leaves with his head down. You should feel bad—for lying. But all you can think about is the Mandalorian.

Fuck.

He was right there. You wanted to fall into his arms and tell him everything. Confess everything. But you couldn’t—and now you don’t know if you will ever be able to.

You reach into your clutch for the keycard to your room, and shuffle through some spare makeup to find it. You swipe it through the sensor and your door flushes open. You look in the mirror beside the front door—you’re unrecognizable to yourself after so many years in hiding.

You feel awful. You’re distraught and devastated—now it’s the appropriate feeling to use the word. He was right there. And even worse, you can’t shake the feeling of Leo’s lips on yours. You tried to wipe it off, but to no avail.

You slump down into a chair and begin to take your heels off. You unclasp them and drop them to the ground while reaching into your dress to take off the holster you had strapped to your thigh with your blaster and blade—just in case. You struggle with the clasp and begin to yank on it, the movement rustling your dress. You feel your blade cut into the skin on your pointer finger.

“Fuck.” You curse to yourself and bring your hand to your eye to inspect the damage.

“Need help?” A thick voice peels through the air of your small room. You yelp out of instinct, jump out of your seat, grab your blaster, and spin to face your bedroom.

Fuck are you dreaming?

He stands there. Just like a few hours before. In front of you—head tilting to the side. You don’t know whether or not to drop your blaster. Maybe he’s here to kill you.

“H–how–I–I…” You start breathless but can’t find the words.

“C’mon. Put that down.” He says while nodding his head to the blaster you still have raised at him. You lower it slowly while he steps toward you.

“H–how did you g–ge—” “Your lock is easy to pick.” He states—still approaching your shaken form.

“You—the opera. I—” you start, but he comes close to you. His body crowds your senses and you move your head to stare up at him.

“I got the guy.” He says. “And you live here now.” He looks around the room in reference. “And you’re with…him.” He says the last part and his voice raises at the end like it’s almost a question, but he’s trying to convince himself it’s a statement.

“Yes. I—well no—I-I live here. But we’re—he’s not—I’m not—we’re not together.” You stutter over your words. You can’t believe he’s here, in your home, crowding your senses like all the weeks before.

“Sure looked like it,” is all he says in reply. Fuck. Was he talking about the kiss?

You don’t know what to say to that—nevermind what he’s doing in your bedroom.

You choose to shake your head in response. You break your gaze, your eyes falling to your feet.

A few moments pass until he begins to move in front of you. He slowly kneels at your feet, mimicking the first time you met him, in the cantina. His hand finds your ankle and your breath hitches in response. You say nothing. Partially because you’re scared your erratic words will cause him to leave forever and the other half because you truly do not know what to say.

He trails his hand up your leg, bunching the fabric along with it, his touch soft on your skin. He reaches further, passing by your knee and you close your eyes, bite your lip and involuntarily let out a small whimper. His head snaps up to meet yours when your soft sounds echo through the room, but only trails his hand higher. It reaches the holster on your thigh. He slowly begins to unbuckle it and lingers there slightly longer than necessary, kneading the flesh of your leg while the holster falls to the ground.

He drops his hand from under your dress when you let out a small moan.

The Mandalorian stands and comes face to face with you again.

A thousand years could pass by but you would still be stuck in this moment. You look into his visor—you find his eyes immediately.

“You left,” he breaks the silence first. He sounds—mad. Or maybe hurt. You can’t tell under the modulation.

“I know. I–I’m sorry. I…” You don’t want to make excuses, so you settle for that.

“Why?” He asks anyway.

“Davin. He—I needed to be done.” You state, breaking your haze on his visor and looking to the side.

“You killed him?” He asks.

“Yes. I—the New Republic was all over the club after. I had to come up here to get away from it.” Your eyebrows furrow at the memories. “Leo is just…I don’t know. He worked with the NR. Takes the heat off me,” you confess.

“I see.” He notes in reply.

Silence surrounds both of you. You look back to his visor.

“I’m sorry. About everything.” You say. You want to reach out and touch him. Hold his hands in yours while you speak. And you do, before you even realize you’re moving. His hands feel rigid in yours while you mold with them.

You feel connected with him at your touch. Even through gloves you can feel every nerve ending in your body.

You feel the attachment that led you to him all those months ago—what kept you dreaming about him, what kept you coming back over and over again.

And maybe whenever you thought about him, it was because he was trying to find you. Searching the galaxy for your white eyes—dreaming about them behind his eyelids.

His hands pull back in your grip but you don’t let them go.

You’re done letting go.

But he’s angry with you. You can tell. Maybe it’s Leo, or maybe it’s just you. He was looking for you while you sat here pretty—leading on the guy next door.

“I should be going now. I…wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Why wouldn’t I be okay?”

“I–” He lets out a breathy laugh. “I saw him drag you into that alley.”

“You followed me?” Your eyes widen in shock.

“I guess. But you’re fine. You got out of there when it started looking…intimate,” you wince at his words. So he saw everything.

“Yeah. He-he just kissed me. I don’t know what happened.” You reply softly. His hand drops from yours and comes up—much like all those months ago, to touch your waist but he falters. Din remembers the man who was with you. His hands were all over your body. The way he glared at Din from behind your shoulder—threatened. Din silently shakes his head, this isn’t what he was here for.

But he isn’t sure what he was here for. He saw you, walking into the opera house. He rounded up the bounty quickly, dragging him back to the ship and sought after you when the show ended. It was supposed to be nothing more than following closely behind you—to steal a couple glances at you in that dress again before he got off world. But you had spotted him through the crowd—and then he knew there was no turning back.

Going to see you after the opera turned into following you to the alley, then to your complex, and picking the back door silently when you bid Leo goodnight.

Now he was—he wasn’t sure. But he knows getting involved with you again was dangerous—and he should treat it as such.

His arm drops and he balls his fist at his side. He feels your hand in his other one.

“Please,” you say with white eyes while you look at him through your lashes. All that was looking back was a black T.

“Don’t go.”

“You left. You left me.” He says with a certain bite that registers in the back of your throat and shoots down to create a pit in your stomach.

“I didn't know you were looking for me. In your dreams, you were looking for me,” you say while your head hangs and you drop his reluctant hand.

“I’m always looking for you.”

Tears well your eyes at his words. You stifle your cries for soft sobs but feel like dropping to the floor and staying there forever.

“Don’t cry,” he says. He brings his hand to your face—his thumb rubbing away fast falling tears from your eyes.

“I'm sorry,” you plead through tears.

“I know,” his hand remains on your face.

You push your cheek into it.

You stayed like that for a long time. He pulled you into his chest and gripped the back of your neck as he held you.

When you both settle to the table in the kitchen, you tell him about Davin—everything about him. You don’t miss how his hand tightens its fist at the mention he was your first kiss.

He tells you he took the kid to the seeing stone, lost him for a bit, then Luke swooped in and saved them all. Typical. Luke is so much like his father and yet, not at all.

“Can I get you anything? Are you hungry?” You say, making your way to the kitchen cabinets. Your bare feet patter into the floors—you’re still in your dress, the shawl wrapped around your body.

“I’m okay. Thank you,” he responds while looking around your home.

“Can I?” He gestures to the expanse of the big room—your living room, bedroom, and kitchen stand undivided, your space looking more like a large loft rather than a house.

“Go for it,” you prepare some berries in a bowl for him anyways. Although you aren’t sure how he will eat them in front of you—a reminder of the rift between you.

You watch him from the kitchen as he stalks around your small space. He looks at the books on your side table, inspects the small trinkets lining the shelves above your bed, touches the headboard with an open palm. It sends a heat to your lower stomach. He’s here. He’s in your room—your bedroom.

It's late. You both left the light switch turned off—blanketed in darkness, the only light coming from the glow of the moon through your windows.

You sit on the counter in your dress, next to the bowl of berries. You nibble at one while watching him look around your open closet.

“You like it here?” He asks, making his way back to you slowly while looking around.

“It’s cheap. It’s…fine. I guess.” you smile slightly at him. He meets your gaze and continues through the small space.

“Leo got it for me. Says he knows the landlord or something,” you concede—heart beat picking up slightly at the mention of his name.

“Leo.” He echos.

“Yeah. The guy from the Opera,” you note quietly, staring down to your swinging feet.

His figure stops a couple feet away from you, hip popped out, leaning on the side of the table with his arms crossed.

“He–y–he treating you right?” He asks, his stance looks ridgid.

“I guess. He’s…nice…fine. I told him I didn’t want anything though.”

“Before or after he kissed you?”

Your eyes widen at the statement. You try to find your words, lips parting.

“I–a-after. You weren’t supposed to see that.”

“No?”

You shake your head in response.

“Why not?” He steps towards you again, you find yourself parting your thighs, a quiet invitation for him to settle between your legs.

“B-because…” you trail off when his hands come to rest on both thighs, massaging them gently while he separates them more, his hips resting in between your legs.

The only contact you feel is the sides of his body on the inside of your knee. You look down, flustered, and when you see his hands on your legs it makes your breath hitch.

“Because?”

You close your eyes momentarily while he rubs your legs. You hesitate in your confession, but find your voice, maybe this is your proposal for him to stay here between your legs forever.

“Because everytime I'm with him I can only think about you.”

His hands stop moving on your thighs and your eyes snap up to meet his visor.

A long silence passes between you. His chest plate rises and falls with every breath. You count them. You’re worried your confession has upset him in some way.

“Fuck. You’re killing me,” he finally mutters. His hands begin to move again, wrapping around your waist—feeling your ribs under the dress. “You look…good. In this dress,” you let out a sigh of relief. You relish the feeling of his hands on your body. You want so desperately to tell him to rip it off you—do anything he wants with you.

“You wear this dress for him?” His words break your trance.

“No,” you shake your head furrowing your eyebrows, leaning into his touch, and arching your back slightly. You start breathing heavily, you can see it fogging his visor.

He crowds your senses, pulling you closer to the edge of the counter. You can feel his cock—hard and wanting under his flight suit push into your core. It makes you gasp and see stars. Your hands instinctively come up to his chest plate. You feel the cold beskar bite your hot skin—it makes you shiver.

“You fuck him?” He says, his crude language mixed with the feeling of his body pressed to yours runs laps in your mind. He pulls the shawl off your shoulders and toys with the strap of your dress. You can’t breathe, let alone see straight. You are drunk at the feeling of his hands on you—his body so close to yours.

“No…no no. Definitely not,” you shake your head while leaning up to his helmet. If things were different you would reach up to kiss him.

“No? Would you have let him?” He pulls the straps of your dress off your shoulder, the fabric falls down your chest, exposing your breasts to the air—your nipples pebble at the cold.

“No—I…no. P-please,” You aren’t sure what you’re asking for, but you need him to do something, anything.

“Fuck, angel. Please what? What do you want from me?” The nickname burns your skin—unlike anything you’ve ever felt.

“Anything. A–anything. Whatever you want,” you plead. There’s almost tears in your eyes from your whining. The pool forming in your underwear is ever growing as he runs his hands along your bare chest, coming to grasp your tits in his hands, thumbing your nipples slowly.

“Anything I want?” His hand pulls back, travels under your dress, and toys with the hem of your underwear. “You’re just for me?” He continues.

“Yes. Y-yes—just for you. Only for you. Mandalori—”

He dips into your underwear, the pad of his gloved finger touches your aching clit lightly, you gasp and your head falls to rest against his chest plate.

“Mandalorian.” He chuckles. “I’ve got my hand up your dress and you don’t even wanna call me Mando?” His head tilts down to the side to see your face. He suddenly pulls his hand out, and starts to undo the fastens on the wrists. Fuck. Is he going to show you his hands? His real hands? You look up to him, and back down to his wrists. You can’t take your eyes away from his hands.

“Mandal—”

“Bite.” He cuts you off, his fingers appearing in front of your mouth, you bite down on the tips of his fingers and feel him pull back—his hand slipping out of his glove. He undoes the other glove. You see his skin. Decidedly human, and tan. You figure his skin never sees the sun, so it must be his natural color. Tan. Human.

“Do you want to know?” He returns his hands back under your dress, inching up your thighs again. The skin to skin contact makes your head spin and you feel lightheaded. Maybe he’s no good for you—something so simple isn’t supposed to feel so good.

“Know what?” His fingertips dip back into your underwear, feeling your wetness. He groans slowly. He begins to push his right middle finger into your aching hole, but pulls back out so only the tip remains.

“My name.”

That snaps you out of it. He can tell. His fingers stop working on you.

“I–only if you want…or you can just be Mandalorian to me.” You say and try to find his eyes beneath the visor. You whimper at the feeling of his fingertip in you. He pushes in—twisting his palm up so he can fill you till his knuckle. Maker, he causes you to see stars.

“I want you to know. ‘Cause you’re not just an assassin to me. Can I tell you?” He starts to pump slowly, finding a steady but achingly slow rhythm that has you whining into his chest. He brings his other hand to your chin, forcing it up to look at his visor. His head cocks—maker, he’s really asking you this question when he’s got his finger deep inside you?

You nod your head frantically and shut your eyes. You feel close just from his slow movements—the pressure building from months of dreaming about him is about to explode.

“Maker, I can feel you. You gonna come already angel? If I tell you, will you say it when you come? ”

“Yes—yes fuck—please, please, f–anything for you.”

He pumps more, adding a second finger, leaning down so his helmet’s forehead touches your own. That makes you want to cry. You bite your lip to soften your whimpers.

“Din. Din Djarin.” He mumbles under his breath and starts pumping faster.

Din. Din. Din. Din. Din.

Maker, you can barely breathe. When you feel the heat in your belly begin to spill over, you clutch onto his bicep so tight you’re afraid it’ll hurt him.

“Alright—alright. C’mon pretty girl. Give it to me,” he says—and you do. You come all over his fingers with a whine, louder than you expected, but then again it feels better than you ever expected. You say his name, his real name. Kriff. Your heart could explode.

When you come down from your high, he leaves his fingers inside you while he holds you in his arms, yours strewn over his shoulders, hanging from his body to keep upright.

You drift to sleep in his arms, your mind only chanting one thing until you see darkness.

Din. Din. Din. Din. Din.

Chapter Eight: The Resurgence

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imabeautifulbutterfly · 18 days

Text

Once Upon a Time on the Razor Crest

Summary: Din and Ann start to feel comfortable around each other

A/N: Hello lovelies,

I hope everyone is having a marvellous weekend.

Love oo

Due to the past history of the OC there will be discussions alluding to past domestic abuse, please note that as it could be a trigger for some.

Warnings: Awkward conversations and question, banter, discussions of dogs and kids having a second sense. If I miss any warnings, please let me know.

AO3 Link | Words: 1,180 | Previous -> Next

Main Master List | Once Upon a Time on the Razor Crest

THE CRESTWORLD

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

I looked at Din, he hadn’t said anything for a beat, I smirked as his face slowly morphed into utter disbelief.

“Dead people? Are you crazy?”

“Hey you said he inherited his mom’s ability to see people; how am I supposed to know what that means?”

Din rubbed his eyes for a second, pushing away the irritation that somehow made him want to laugh and at the same time take you to a doctor to make sure you were okay. “Okay. Sure, I can somewhat see you not understanding what I was trying to say, but … dead people? Really?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, is that too offensive to the otherwise living?” I laughed knowing I was irritating him more.

Din shook his head as he stifled a laugh, “God, you are a pain in my ass, you know that?”

“Yeah. But a pain in your ass that you thought did a good job today” I beamed as I looked at him.

He let out a full belly laugh, it had been a long time since he laughed this hard, not because of someone being an idiot, or because of something Grogu did, but simply because the person he was with made him feel comfortable enough to open up. “Okay, that’s it, you’re no longer allowed to say you did a good job today, and I’m never telling you ‘you did a good job’ ever again. Even if you were to save the Ranch from burning down.” He chuckled, wiping a tear.

“Right, at least until the next time you think I do a good job,” I winked laughing along with him.

“Nope, not even then.”

“Mmhmm, I have no doubt you’re going to be eating those words.”

“Not gonna happen.”

“Let’s make a bet.”

“Sorry, I don’t make bets when it can be avoided. I don’t like leaving my fate up to chance.

“It’s a friendly bet, no money, nothing uncomfortable. Just if you lose, you grant me one wish, and if I lose, I grant you one wish.”

“A wish? What am I, five?”

“Okay, the fact you’re not wishing anymore is just sad, but fine if not a wish, then we can promise something or grant a request.”

“Fine, I’ll grant a request.”

“Great, now if you end up saying ‘Good job, Ann’ once again, even though you declared you’d never say it again, you grant me a request, and if you don’t I’ll grant you a request.”

“Great, then grant me my request, because I’ve already one, I won’t say that phrase …” he motioned with his finger drawing a line, “ever again.”

“No, no, no. I’m not just going to concede now. Come on.”

“Well you’ll be waiting a long time, so be prepared to have it etched on your tombstone?”

“Oh that I did a good job?” I smirked, loving how easy it was to sometimes rile him up. Din simply shook his head, fighting back the laugh, “Anyway … you were saying, before we got side tracked, Grogu inherited his ability to see people from his mom.”

“Yes, the living. The living people. I feel I should emphasize this. Not dead. Living, breathing people.”

I shook my head as I looked out the window, “Okay. I get it. Living people. He can see people … wait does that mean you’re blind?”

Din glanced over to her, was she for real, or was she doing this to purposefully irritate him, “What the f… Are you for real right now? If I was blind, should I be driving the truck right now?”

“Well, I don’t know. Forgive me for trying to understand you’re cryptic, wrapped in an enigma type conversation. I’m just trying to understand what you’re talking about.” I ran my hand over my face trying not to pull out my hair, “Okay, Din, can you please just explain what you mean?”

Din shook his head, as he swallowed the laugh that was pressing against his cheeks, he cleared his throat, he hated the fact that she kept throwing these ridiculous notions out there and it was loving every minute of it, “Grogu has an ability to sense who’s a good person and who’s not. For example,” Din motioned with his thumb over his shoulder, directing her to look back, “at the diner, I mentioned I had a bad feeling about Toro.”

“Toro?”

“Calican, the young man who asked for your number.”

“Oh, right.”

“When Grogu met him, he refused to come out of the bathroom, locked himself in there till Calican left. He didn’t last an hour before I was asking me to tell him to leave my property. There’s something not right about that guy, so fair warning, be careful around him.”

I smirked wondering what kind of crazy intuition his wife had, “Kids and dogs.”

“Huh?”

I stretched my arms and legs, “Kids and dogs are known to have a sixth sense about people. There was a study done on dogs, and it showed they have a keen sense of who to trust and who not to trust. Kids too. They usually can tell when someone’s a good person or not, the fact Grogu locked himself in the bathroom, speaks volumes.” I looked out the window, when I realized we were passing the ranch, “Where we heading?”

“Gotta pick something up from Boba, he’s my neighbour, the next closest rancher around. After him is Camilla’s aunt, Peli, she lives about an hour and a half from my place.”

“That’s the Boba Fett you were helping with his lost sheep?”

“Yeah”

Silence filled the truck as we drove on, there was one question, no matter how much I wanted to push away kept forcing itself to the front of my mind, “Din, if you don’t mind me asking, what was Camilla like?” I glanced over to him to see his jaw clench, as his fingers gripped the steering wheel turning his knuckles white.

Din looked over to Ann, he wanted to tell her she had no right to know anything about Camilla, how could she even dare to ask such a question. However, he was just talking about how Grogu was so much like her. Truthfully, he never really talked about her with anyone, well except for Grogu and Peli, on occasion, it sort of became an unspoken rule.

On occasion, Omera was willing to listen but she didn’t make it a habit. He missed talking about her, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad letting Ann know.

He took in a shuddering breath, “She could make any dark day better. She had this ability to always find the bright spot, it didn’t matter how bad the situation was, how difficult it could be. She knew what to say to make it a little better. She was the only one who knew just what to say or not to say to calm me down when I was being a stubborn jackass.” A small smile started to form on his lips, “She was kind. Warm, and had the best smile and laugh I ever heard or saw.”

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hellhound5925 · 6 months

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Alrighty, so as I have mentioned before, I am switching gears to write a Mandalorian fic. I have finished what I’m calling the Prologue for now (idk if I really like that) but its a little story from a time before the actual fic itself takes place. I hope you enjoy! There will be plenty more Din/Raven where this came from and don’t worry I’ll still write for Hunter from time to time!

Welcome to,

Cyare Verd *Beloved Warrior* The Mandalorian Edition (I know, I know, I’m not original but I suck at titles)

Prologue - The Encounter

Summary:

This is setting up a little backstory for the beginning of my new fic. There will be fun mood boards for each chapter created my both myself and my wonder friend @lune-de-miel-au-paradis who is hella talented! (Thanks girl 💖) I hope you enjoy and be on the look out for Chapters going forward! If this is something you would like to be tagged in please drop a comment, send me an ask, send a message, whatever fits your fancy 😊 I promise I’ll shut up and we get right to it!

Warnings:

Always gunna put 18+, violence and thats bout it for now. Smut will be in the actually fic itself but I’ll post the warning accordingly. Also, If I miss something I’m sorry, I’m not very good at warnings 😅 There will be Mando’a but ya girl always provides a translation so have no fear.

————

The entire time I've been looking for this bounty, someone else is a few steps behind me. How do I know? Well I backtracked and paid a bar keep to get ahold of me with any information about someone asking about the individual I had. The Twi-Lek contacted me only hours later with a description. She sounded worried but not for me when she said "All I know is he looked just like you." Two Mandalorians hunting the same bounty? Strange but not completely out of the ordinary. I mean a lot of our people resorted to bounty hunting, with our skill sets and love for getting into fights makes us the best at the job. I decided I would make my way back and tail him for a bit, seeing if he took the bait. Thanks to my cunning wit he did.

This must be the one the barkeep was talking about - I think to myself. A Mandalorian man walks a few paces ahead of me covered in mismatched pieces of armor topped off with a shiny chrome helmet. I chuckle to myself, knowing that because of my cloak he won't know who or what I am. He stops momentarily like he's aware of my presence but little does he know, I'm a master of hiding in the shadows. Spinning around on his heel he walks my direction, hand hovering over his side arm. I take the opportunity to slip further into the dark, down an alley. He stops in almost the exact spot I was only moments ago. Now that he's closer I can now get a good look at his stature, he's taller than me and definitely more muscular.

His shiny helmeted head slowly looks my way down the alley - so he's smart...I'll give him that. Taking a few cautious steps, he makes his way towards me. I climb up onto the rooftop of the short building next to me. He should paint that armor, he sticks out like a Bantha in the ocean of sand on Tatooine. Smirking to myself I wait until he is directly below me before clearing my throat. He immediately looks up, drawing his blaster taking a shot at me. Crossing both vambraces in front of me, the bolt pings off my armor, breaking the cold dark silence of the night with a loud crack.

As if time stood still, I jump down in front of him and one hand connects with the elbow of his outstretched arm causing it to bend, pointing his blaster away from me. Using my other hand, I free the blaster from his grip sending it somewhere into the shadows. He counters with a left hook which passes over my head as I duck, rolling back into the shadows. He loses track of me and frantically spins around preparing for my next move.

I slink around him in the darkness just out of his view, like a predator circling its prey. He reaches up in a slow careful movement, for his vambrace likely to change the setting on his HUD - I would do the same. To stop him, I crouch and in one swift movement of my foot I catch his ankle, pulling hard, and sending him to the ground face first with a grunt. Standing to my full height, I can't help the chuckle that escapes watching the large man hit the ground by my hand...or foot.

His head snaps in my direction and I'm immediately full of regret. Using his whip cord, he grabs my leg pulling me flat on my back into the light. I hit the ground so hard it knocked the wind out of me. Next thing I know, he's standing over me staring down at me through his visor. His body language shifts and I realize why, my hood fell while I was being pulled to the ground exposing my helmeted head. Slamming my fist and throwing my head back on the ground, a string of curses in Mando'a leave my lips. When I pick my head back up, he is still standing there staring down at me, the T-snapped visor is almost menacing at this angle.

"You could at least help a girl up" my sassy tone, exaggerated by my helmets modulator.

He offers me a hand, I take it and he pulls me to my feet.

"I'm sorry if I had known—"

"You weren't supposed to" I cut him off, my tone annoyed "Kinda the point of the hood." I'm not sure what annoys me more, his reaction or the fact he actually got one over on me. I brush myself off and straighten out my Kama. Looking up, I realize he is watching my every move.

I break the silence, getting right to the point "So you've been tracking me? Or my bounty at least. Why?"

"Quite honestly, I didn't know I was tracking you. You cover your tracks well." He compliments me and for a moment my pride swells. I didn't work this hard to become the expert I am just to have some di'kut (fool) ruin it. He pulls out a bounty puck from his pocket, showing it to me. It displays the face of the same man I'm hunting.

"Well I hate to break it to you, but I was here first." I say, poking him square in the chest plate. Now with how close we are and standing still, I can see how worn his armor is. It probably belonged to a family member of his or something. Although with the shiny shoulder pauldron and helmet, it makes me wonder if he's a foundling. They often use whatever armor they can find or are given until they can make their own. These days however, beskar is quite difficult to come by.

His voice pulls me from my thoughts, "How about we work together. Share the profits?"

I immediately scoff, crossing my arms over my chest and shifting my weight to one leg. "I don't think so. I work alone. Plus I'd be taking a pay cut."

"Your loss" He says monotone before turning to pick his blaster up before walking away.

I'm taken aback by his comment. Does he really think he's better than me? One of my biggest downfalls is people doubting me just because I'm a woman.

"You know...the last man to doubt me ended up with a broken nose and stitches."

He continues walking as if he didn't hear me, but I know he did. "Te jatne beroya kelir parjir (may the best bounty hunter win)" I whisper under my breath. Flipping my hood back over my head, I storm off in the opposite direction he went.

Cursing to myself in my native tongue, I take a few moments to collect myself from the encounter and get back to work. Before the Twi-lek had gotten a hold of me about my tail, I had tracked the bounty to a small village a few kicks due north. It's quite a distance to walk but I really don't feel the need to take my ship there. Thankfully I've stashed my speeder bike on board, it makes for tight living quarters but it works I guess.

Once I reach my ship, I give the bike a quick once over before dragging it down the ramp. Giving it a quick start, it seems to be running fine. I hop on and speed off towards the small down, in hopes my counterpart hasn't already caught on. Luckily for me, I paid the Twi-lek a little extra to send him astray.

———

By the time I make it to the village, the early morning sun is beginning to brighten the sky. The village also appears to be waking up which is perfect. A few people are milling around giving me strange looks and at first they are stand offish - which really is not a surprise to me...people seem to be afraid of Mandalorians. I approach an older woman who doesn't seem to be bothered by my presence.

"Excuse me, I'm sorry to bother you but I'm looking for someone and was wondering if you might help me?"

She doesn't stop what she's doing and speaks quietly, "Not here...follow me." She turns and heads between two of the small huts.

Leading me into a small hut that appears to be some kind of storage shed, she stops. "I figured it was better we talk here."

I cock my head at her. "The locals around here are uneasy about people asking questions. I think I know exactly who you are looking for. You see there have been mercenaries lurking around."

I don't move or say anything and she continues, "You look like a capable warrior....get rid of them." She must sense that I'm eyeing her.

"You must be wondering why I would trust some stranger...I've heard the stories about Mandalorians...it will be easy work for you and solve our problem."

I offer her a curt nod, "Where can I find them?"

———

Having followed the exact directions the old woman gave me which lead me to a camp just east of the village. I find a good scouting spot and perch myself at the top of a hill near some brush. Using my HUD's thermal scan, I get a read on how many are down there - 12...I've taken out worse...Leaving my perch, I walk towards their camp and they do exactly as I had expected. A group of 2 meet me at the road while 2 others stand guard.

"You lost?" One of them asks. I tilt my visor between the four of them, calculating my move depending on how this conversation goes.

"I asked you a question."

"I heard you" I sass.

Scoffing the man turns to the others laughing.

"Did I say something funny?" I snap, starting to lose my patience.

"This one seems to be a little slow" another one says, his tone mocking me.

"You've got quite the mouth on you, young lady" The first man says walking a circle around me checking out my armor.

I'd take him out right there but there's always a bigger fish. Not only that, he'll get what he deserves,

"No. I'm not lost. I'd like to speak to the one in charge, since it's clearly not you."

After he finishes his circle he stops in front of me with a disgusted look on his face, "Follow me." He leads me into the camp with the others trailing behind.

Stopping at the fire, and the man turns to me "Wait here." He disappears into their ship.

Looking over my shoulder, I make a mental note of where the other 3 are standing behind me. As I look around more come out of the woodwork, coming to a grand total of 10 - someone's paranoid and rightfully so. Just then the man from earlier appears followed by 2 more - one wearing the face of the man on my puck.

"I hear you asked to speak with me" he says, voice booming through the camp.

"There's a bounty out for you. I'm here to collect" my tone is flat, this group seems like one that would get spurred on by irritation.

The bounty takes out a blade and starts walking towards me laughing "Darling..." He starts and drags the flat side of the blade across my chest, to my shoulder, and around my back.

"Wonder how much we could get for armor like that? What'd ya think boys?" There's a series of whoops and hollers.

He stops dragging the blade and leans in to whisper, "or maybe I'll just keep it as a trophy."

I smirk to myself, "Be careful what you wish for" venom dripping from my words.

Sliding my hands down towards my blasters, I get ready to draw them. Just as I'm about to, their leader takes the knife and puts it to my throat, getting in close, "I don't think so."

Kneeing him in the crotch he drops to the ground in pain. Seconds after blaster fire begins to ping off my armor. I let out a low growl that sounded quite feral through my modulator. A few of the mercs begin to drop but not by my hand, blaster fire from an unknown source rings out through the air. The men in front of me look around in confusion and I take the opportunity to quickly restrain my bounty and knock him out. I then draw my blaster firing at the 3 closest to me and their bodies slump to the ground. Bending over I grab the blade - that was previously dragged across my armor - and send it flying through the air before burying itself into the chest of the man taunting me earlier.

Getting both myself and my bounty to cover, I make mental note of the direction the blaster fire comes from. Once I figure out where they are, I pick the bounty up - who thankfully is a small human man - throwing him over my shoulder, and racing to my speeder. Putting as much distance between me and the sound of the fight behind me as fast as I can.

Once I get there, I quickly throw him on before starting it up and jumping on myself. A blaster bolt flys over my head and a familiar modulated voice yells something that I can't quite hear over the speeder's engine. Annoyed, I whip my helmeted head around, to see the Mandalorian from last night running in my direction. With a smirk plastered on my face, I speed off towards my ship. Getting away with the bounty we both wanted.

"I guess we know who the better bounty hunter is."

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handspunyarns · 3 months

Text

You Were Marked: Day Twenty-One point Five (Din)

pairing: din djarin x fem!O/C

word count: 2.9K

chapter summary: Din takes a bad decision and makes it worse.

warnings:  angst, mention of incest, inbreeding, suicide, infertility, masturbation, English and Mando’a cursing

***Please feel free to comment, kvetch, or otherwise speak your mind about my work. ***   

You Were Marked: Masterlist

You Were Marked: <- Previous Chapter

Din stared at Marathel. “When do we …”

“When do we leave?”

Din was unable to speak. Marathel could hear his breathing in the helmet as he continued to stare at her, and she knew that he normally took care to not let his breathing be heard. I have broken him, she thought. I have destroyed his soul, set it afire, burned away any care or affection he could ever have for me, and that is as it should be, but I am sorry I had to hurt him so to do it.

Din swallowed the bile that had risen again in his throat, burning his sinuses. I can’t, I can’t. Her words seemed to have filled him with a poison that threatened to burn him down to nothing. Never, never, had he heard of such an existence as hers. Anyone else would have died. Anyone else would have killed themselves — should have killed themselves. And she tried, oh she tried, but whatever oversaw this horrible universe, be it the Force, or Frith, or a cruel Maker and Destroyer of Worlds, kept her alive. Alive and beautiful and smart and talented and kind, despite being filled with pain and shame and self-loathing and guilt. And love, for Frith’s sake, love, love for Grogu and even for him, because she’d had to love him to empty out her guts like this to him, to share her agony in the hopes of …

“Bounty Hunter?”

He looked back up at Marathel, and there was concern in her voice and on her face, concern for him; she’d just described how she’d survived the most horrific existence possible, and she was concerned for him?

As he stared at her, one part of his mind continued the litany of I can’t I can’t, but another part of his mind was desperately trying to remind him that he loved her and nothing else mattered.

But it did.

It did matter.

It mattered to him that she hated his Creed. His Creed, the one thing that some days kept him going, that made his own life worthwhile. It mattered to him that she believed her Hold and his covert were alike. It mattered to him that she believed his Creed worked at the expense of others. It mattered that she believed he’d used his Creed to hurt her. It mattered that she believed that her … birth circumstances made a difference in his feelings for her.

It mattered, because as much as he would hate to admit it, there was the possibility that she could be right.

Marathel watched Din’s gloved hands clench into fists. She was suddenly struck with horrible anxiety; she was reminded of her dream — the Bishop disguised as Din, stalking towards her with the intent to do her harm. It frightened her to see those fists, because she had just spent however long telling him the most disgusting and degrading things, and then she had the audacity to make a comparison of her circumstances to his Creed, to a man whose hands could kill her as easily as caress her. That was an unforgivable thing that she did. And she did it because … to her it was the truth. Her truth. And right now, that was the only truth she cared about.

Marathel heard him swallow and take a shaky breath, but he still said nothing, and his visor pointed towards a point over and beyond her shoulder. She leaned forward, and softly said, “Din?”

“I can’t,” he softly uttered, shaking his head.

Marathel nodded, and leaned back against the wall, and she went back to looking at the night sky as Din turned and walked out of the room.

As he left, he practically crashed into Cobb, who grabbed him by the wrists, muttering, “No, you don’t … don’t you dare …”

“Leave off, Cobb …” hissed Din as he worked to twist his hands away. He almost succeeded, but he was distracted and upset, and Cobb got a tight hold of him again.

“Don’t you fucking dare walk away from her! She needs you right now!”

Looking past Cobb’s shoulder, Din could see a weeping Silnima, curled against the wall. Din stopped struggling. “I can’t, Cobb.”

“You better, if you love her like you say you do,” replied Cobb. He released Din’s hands. Din took a step back. He looked at Cobb for a moment, and then he turned and continued down the corridor. Cobb sighed deeply. Silnima had paused her crying to see Din walk away, and she was wracked with fresh sobs.

Down in the courtyard, ten feet below Marathel’s window, Fennec and Boba sat on the hard-packed ground. Fennec leaned back against Boba, and his arms, wrapped around her, gave her another squeeze. “I hate it when I’m right,” muttered Fennec, and Boba said nothing, but kissed the top of her head.

Silnima went to the kitchen to cry in private. Cobb stood just outside Marathel’s room, watching her watch the sky. She’s too quiet, too still. She only lost it a little there, the rest will go soon, and I think it will be like a Sandcrawler exploding.

Cobb walked up to Marathel, and reached up to gently pull on her arm and her leg. “No, don’t,” she said, twisting away, but he kept pulling at her. “You shouldn’t be touching me,” muttered Marathel.

“You ain’t got no cooties, now come down here.” He gave her another tug, and she let him lift her down from the windowsill. He pulled the chair aside to pick up her blanket, and he wrapped her tightly in it. As Cobb sat back down, he hauled her onto his lap, picking up her feet to tuck them at his hip. Marathel sat stiffly in his arms, looking down at him. Cobb looked up at her, and he placed his hands on her cheeks, his thumbs softly stroking the hair at her temples. He whispered, “I’m so sorry, honey.” His warm hazel eyes bored into her silver ones as he continued to stroke her hair, and finally her eyes filled with tears, and she wilted against him, into his arms, and her head fell to his shoulder with a wail.

Din walked all the way to the landing tunnel, straight to the landing gear of the Crest. He stepped behind the landing gear, in darkness and out of sight, stripped off his helmet, and vomited into the sand. Twice. He dry-heaved, spit, and swallowed, but the sickness was still inside, an insidious toxic feeling. Tears threatened, but he kept them back by sheer force of will and replaced his helmet. His Creed. His strength, his salvation. He walked around to the side of the ship and slapped the ramp control.

Din walked up into his ship, his mind whirling. He couldn’t go into his tiny quarters because that was where she had lain, dying. He couldn’t go into the cockpit because he’d dreamed of her up there. He couldn’t go into the fresher because he’d masturbated to thoughts of her in there. Her blood had been tracked over every square inch of this ship. Her blood was in the metal that made his helmet. His Creed was now tainted by her.

Marathel.

Never had another person uprooted Din’s life in such a volatile manner. He had lost both his parents, he had been adopted into a warrior religion, he had lost his mentor, he had gained… well, a son. He was a murderer, an assassin, a mercenary, a bounty hunter, and now an ersatz father to a little green Jedi, which, in the scheme of things, should have been enough excitement.

But no, he had to get tangled up with a woman, and not just a woman, this woman. Not another Mandalorian, not another mercenary (although, to be fair, Xi’an had turned him off from ever attempting that again), not even the quiet and lovely Omera. A Mandalorian — even one from another sect — would be understanding of his Creed. At least Omera had been respectful as she questioned his Creed. To hear Marathel say she didn’t give a shit about it upset him greatly. How dare she? How dare she attack the core of who I am? How could she be that cruel?

He pulled off his helmet and dropped it on the floor. He kicked the crate into the center of the floor — near the divot he had placed there — and sat, leaning over, his elbows on his knees. His misery was too familiar; it was the same as when he first realized what the Dilimgau was, how it had been used. He thought he might howl now as he had then, but instead, no sound left his lips other than the breath from the bottoms of his lungs. He hugged himself tightly to keep his chest from exploding open with the pain.

Why are you crying, son?

I can’t, Father.

What’s got your thermals in a twist, kid?

I can’t, buir.

And he couldn’t. He couldn’t fathom how to wrap his head around everything he had just heard. He was an engineer’s son, although he was a bounty hunter and an assassin, a murderer and a criminal. He still had the mind of an engineer, and he wanted so much to fix this, and he had no idea how.

How do I find the root cause of this kind of pain? How do I compartmentalize her suffering? Her cruel words to me? Her background, the fact that she’s …

He couldn’t bring his mind to form the words, the truth about her that he’d suspected yet not allowed himself to believe about her familial relationship with the Bishop. The man who was her father, her grandfather, going back for who knew how many generations, was also supposed to be her …

Don’t say lover, don’t even think it!

… sexual partner and the father of her children. That was her purpose in life, to be an incubator for his progeny.

Thank Frith she was sterile. That happened, he’d heard, in clans such as hers, as if nature abhorred the practice and made it self-destruct. It was taboo among the Mandalorians, obviously, but very taken especially seriously in his covert, which was small and only had a few families. Relationships were severed once consanguinity was discovered, and he’d heard of pregnancies being terminated on the rare occasion it occurred. It was another reason that bringing in foundlings was such an honored tradition, although this particular reason was not spoken out loud.

But there had been one in his covert. It wasn’t found out until the child was half-grown and near the age of taking the helmet. Two young men had finally revealed that the child’s mother, their blood aunt, had molested and abused them when they were younger, and this child was the result.

The mother and child were drummed out of the covert, her helmet confiscated, stripped of her Mandalorian heritage. Din had struggled with whether he would feel sorry for the child or be disgusted by its existence. He had asked his buir about his conflict, and he had responded that all three of the children deserved pity regardless, for none of it had been their fault. But then his buir said, if you can find it in your heart to have a grain of sand’s worth of pity for the aunt, for she was sick of mind, heart, and soul … then you’ll be a better man than I could ever be, kid.

The idea that inbreeding was the preferred practice of continuing the population was one of the foulest things Din had ever heard of. The possibility that she could have brought forth another generation was monstrous to him. But truly, it was not her fault, for what else did she know?

Remember the first day? The second? Those days when you were still unaware of the depths of her ignorance? She didn’t know what a ship was. What planets and stars were. How can you blame her for what she had no way of knowing?

He knew he had to pity her for what she suffered inside that Hold. He had to pity her for the circumstances of her birth, and how she would continue to suffer because of it. If he could pity her for those things, then he had to find a grain of sand’s worth of pity for her ignorance of his Creed. She didn’t understand because she couldn’t.

If Marathel would allow it, I will teach her my Creed, why it’s so important to me, why it is so essential to the core of my being. If she cannot, or will not, then I know I will have done my best by my Creed.

I don’t always have to like her, but I must try to love her as best I can. And if I love her, then nothing else matters.

I’m so sorry, my ma’mwsh ha’laa.

Din finally collected himself enough to return to the palace. He had abandoned her, thought only of his own pain and not hers, and he had to try to make it right. He fucked up again, he was only human, and he didn’t know what the hell he was doing. He still didn’t know how to process at least half of what Marathel said, nor could he process half of the conflicting emotions he felt.

He had never heard anything so vile before, and he had been an assassin for the Empire. He was a murderer for a living, and hearing what Marathel endured after going through that door made him physically sick. But he had to try, for her sake, to help her continue to endure, because he …

He stepped up to the door, hearing Cobb’s voice, low, soothing. Din moved into the doorway to see Marathel, wrapped tightly in her blanket, cradled on Cobb’s lap. She clutched at his neck, weeping. His arms held her tight as he gently rocked her. Cobb’s face also held tear-tracks, and he glared at Din, as if to say, this is where you should be, you should have been the one to hold her, comfort her, tell her that none of it mattered. But you couldn’t, so I did, and there is no helmet between me and her. Cobb held Din’s eyes as he kissed Marathel’s cheek, keeping his lips against her soft skin much longer than was necessary before dropping his face to her shoulder. Her hand went up into Cobb’s hair, her fingers twisting in the strands.

Suddenly it all made sense. Her drawing away. Her telling him to let her go. Her inability to return words of love. Her hatred of his Creed. Cobb’s insistence on being alone with her, keeping Din away as long as possible. So it’s true, thought Din. You son of a bitch. Guess what, friend? You can have her. You deserve each other.

The thought flew through his head unbidden, shocking him, but not enough to shake off his anger. He ground his teeth until his jaw ached.

No, no. Strike that. You don’t get her. I don’t get her.

No one does.

She’s going back.

Din snapped, “We leave tomorrow morning.” Marathel’s head came up and half-turned to him, her face red from weeping, but she still was able to blush, infuriating Din even more. He spun and left her room, heading to his room and back to Grogu. As he passed the kitchen, he saw Silnima, her face in her hands. He ignored her sobbing and continued down the corridor. He entered his room and his eyes fell on Grogu, his pride, his joy. He was that boy’s father in all ways that mattered. Like Olba was for Marathel. Not that it did any good. No one protected those children. No one protected those women. Let them die out, let that horrible place fall out of existence. And if Marathel wants to go back to die out with them, then I’ll take her back, and gladly let her go.

Unmanarall and its sick, perverted culture — including Marathel —wasn’t his battle. Grogu was his battle. His Creed was his battle.

Din crawled into bed, carefully placing a protective hand on Grogu’s tiny chest, feeling the small beskar rondel under the little shirt. A shirt Marathel had made. His Mama.

Grogu’s going to lose his Mama, thought Din, a fresh pang shooting through his heart.

He’s young. He’ll forget her. I will too, in time.

He wanted to sleep for a thousand years. Maybe that would be long enough to forget her. But sleep would not come, even after he had — several times — replayed and dissected and diagrammed every word she had said to him tonight, every inflection in her voice … and then her ugly words about his Creed, and the sight of her hand tangled in Cobb’s hair. Every root cause analysis he tried to effect had a different beginning and a different course of action he should take, muddying his rational thought. Exhausted, confused, heartbroken, Din lay there, his hand resting on the little warm body of Grogu, wishing he could sleep. He turned off his visor, and stared into the darkness, wondering why he could hear singing, and the smell of baking bread.

You Were Marked: Next Chapter ->

#the mandalorian angst #din djarin angst #mando angst #star wars fanfiction #starwarsficnetwork #pedro fics #pedro stories #pedrostories #pedrohub #din djarin fanfiction #mando x fem oc #mando x female oc #mando x plus size oc

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chaosology · 1 year

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home

— the mandalorian x reader

prompt: “where were you when i needed you?”

warnings: angst... angry punching? bad writing

masterlist

Tatooine was a dry, dead place. Full of bounties and killers for hire, you didn’t exactly fit in. You were only scraping by, living off of small tips from fixing broken engines and serving drinks at the cantina.

It hadn’t always been like this. You used to have a home - at least, you thought you did. You started to tag along with the Mandalorian and his small green friend after you met him through your friend Cara. He gave you comfort and security in exchange for you taking caring care of the child and fixing the ship when need be.

Slowly, you began to develop feelings. He would bring back small things for you from his jobs and started holding conversations with you, talking for no reason in the dead of the night. Maybe, just maybe, he started to like you too.

Until he didn’t.

‏‏‎ ‎

“Get up. This is your stop.” A harsh voice spoke, awaking you from your slumber. Above you stood the Mandalorian, a small carry bag in hand - your carry bag.

“What in the- stars Mando, it’s barely sun up.” You retaliated, rubbing at your eyes. His hand came to your shoulder, shaking it in frustration. He motioned for you to get up, and you immediately did so. In your tired mind, this was all a game.

“Was I not clear? This is your stop. I’ll give you some credits to get yourself started, but don’t come looking for me. This is done. We’re done.” Although you couldn’t see his face, it seemed as if his eyes were staring into your soul. Piercing through you.

“I don’t... I don’t understand. Where are we? Why are you doing this.” You could feel your eyes tearing up, blurring your vision. His helmet tilted away for a second as he spoke

“This is Tatooine. And I have my reasons. Please, just leave”

You were too shocked to speak. You cautiously grabbed the bag from his hands, throwing it over your shoulder as you walked quietly through the ship. You felt an odd feeling of shame, as if you had just been scolded in front of a crowd. As you stepped towards the Child’s sleeping form, an arm came out in front of you.

“Go. You’ll just confuse him”

If you hadn’t been so emotional in the moment, you would’ve picked up on the sadness in his voice. But you didn’t, so you ventured forward, pushing his arm away and refusing to look back. As your boots hit the sand you could here the Razor Crest getting ready to fly. It hurt that he didn’t stay to watch you go, but then again, why would he? He clearly didn’t care about you.

‏‏‎ ‎

You were on your break from your shift at the cantina when you saw him. He walked confidently through the sand with the floating crib at his side. Bastard. How dare he show his face (well, helmet technically.)

You had to double check you weren’t hallucinating (you thought you saw him once before, but it was just some scammer in armour he bought off the jawas) before your heart started racing and your feet took off before you could think straight. All of a sudden you were walking fast towards him, tears in your eyes as you did so. He noticed you immediately, appearing emotionless as he stared you down.

Before you knew it, your hands were pushing him back, punching at the stiff metal of his chestplate. “Lying bastard.” Push. “Son of a bitch”. Push. “Selfish womp rat”. Shove.

He didn’t fight it, allowing himself to be pushed backwards through your rage. You lost the ability to speak as you cried, your hands puncring weakly at his chest. He looked down at you, one hand coming to wrap around both your wrists. Nothing was said as you sniffled and you could begin to hear his heavy breathing through the modulator.

“Where were you when I needed you? Huh?!”, you cried, “I wanted you. I needed you. And you tossed me out like imperial trash.” His hands enveloped yours as he sighed, turning to face away from you.

“I just... I wanted you safe. I couldn’t have you getting hurt...”

“So you DUMPED me on this trash sand dune? I’m a person, I can do things for myself. I can decide how to handle my safety, that’s not your choice to make.” You fumed.

“I know. I thought that if I did this I would protect you from them. I worried about you, but I knew you’d be okay. If you were to get hurt, I would never forgive myself.” He released your hands, looking down shamefully towards the ground. You were taken aback by his confession. Still angry, of course, but nonetheless surprised.

“I thought you hated me. That you wanted me out of your sight. I spent weeks upset over that. I just... missed you.”

There was a tender moment of silence as his hands moved up to glide across you neck and down your arms.

“You can come back, if you want. I know it doesn’t make up for everything but I’m sure the kid will be happy to see you.”

“Ok.”

“Really?”

“I mean, itll take a while you know. I might need some time. But I’d still love to come back”

“And I- We’d love for you to come back.”

You were home.

#mando x reader #mando x female reader #the mandalorian x reader #mandalorian x oc #mandalorian x reader #mando oneshot #din djarin x reader #din djarin x y/n #din djarin x female reader #din djarin angst #mandalorian angst #star wars fanfiction

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noisynaia · 2 years

Text

Among the Stars: Distant Suns

[Din Djarin x Reader] Chapter 1

Chapter title: The Inn

summary: You have lived on Tatooine your entire life, never even been off-planet. Your path crosses a mysterious Mandalorian and his even more mysterious child. You end up having to leave your home after getting caught up with the mysterious duo by mistake.

word count: 3.1k

rating: E

pairing: Din Djarin x afab!reader

note: This has not been beta read. No use of (y/n). The reader goes by she/her pronouns. She is described as being shorter than Mando and having hair (length, texture, or colour not mentioned) but no other physical descriptions are used. This is a slow burn y'all, but it will eventually become smutty™️. Hope you enjoy :)

crossposted on my ao3

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Luckily, the child doesn’t seem to mind the heat too much. The pod has good ventilation, making sure its little green inhabitant doesn't overheat. Din, on the other hand, is both hot and bothered. The armour has a cooling function, keeping his back and chest free from sweat. But the suns of the desert planet are unforgiving, the fabric of his cowl clinging to his neck and his gloved-covered palms are sweaty, sticking to the leather. His boots feel heavier and heavier with each step he takes on the loose sand.

Skywalker. It is the only lead he currently has on finding a Jedi. He had gotten a tip that a kid named Skywalker had lived on Tatooine years ago, but had not been able to find any information on the planet that have helped him to get closer to finding out what have become of him. It irritates Din, a whole day in the scorching heat and he was still not coming any further in his search for a Jedi for the kid. But there is also a part of Din that feel relief, it is a part he desperately tries to suppress. Not coming any closer to finding the Jedi also means that Din hasn’t come any closer to being separated from the kid. His lifestyle is not suited for a child. It is a selfish and nonlogical feeling, but Din have ended up caring more for the little womp rat than he ever had thought possible. He have not been letting himself dwell on it, trying to just take one day at a time, but it have been harder to do lately.

Din had been alone for a long time and having the small, green, youngster around had definitely been an upheaval, he was so used to not having anyone around. Din had gone many days without saying a word over the years while traveling alone in the crest. The child can, of course, not speak back, but Din talks to him. It is not like these oneway conversations involve any deep subjects, usually, Din simply says what he’s doing out loud, trying to include the child in the task at hand. Having someone around, especially a young child was foreign to Din, but he had ended up caring for the child in a way he had never even thought possible. However, what had come as the biggest shock for him was that the child seemed to care for Din too.

They had landed in Mos Eisley at dawn, dropping off the Razor Crest at Peli’s shop. The Crest had had a close encounter with an asteroid belt on their last mission, and the ship was not in the best condition now. Fortunately, the damage was sustained on the hunt for a very high-profile bounty, which Din brought in warm, so the repair fee shouldn’t be a problem. But it did mean that they had to stay on Tatooine for a night or two while the Crest got repaired. It was convenient that the only clue Din had about a Jedi was Tatooine. What wasn’t convenient was that he had not been able to find any information about where the Skywalker guy was. The only thing Din could confirm was that there had once been a Skywalker kid on the planet, but that it was many years ago and no one knew what had become of him. Din was back to square one. It’s been a long fruitless day and the kid, even with the decent protection from the pod, needs to get out of the heat, Din does too. He is tired, not only physically but mentally too.

The suns are about to set as they return to town. Din finds the place Peli had told him about with relative ease, as the woman had given a good description. He had asked her if there were any lodging places in town more kid-friendly than the cantina’s, in which Din knew many of the rooms was used by the brothel. It is not something Din would normally mind, but he would feel weird bringing the kid to such a place. The inn seems nice, it is probably also pricier than the rooms at the cantina, but that’s okay, it will be good for the kid, and Din doesn’t exactly hate the prospect of a few night's sleep on a good mattress.

A little bell rings as Din opens the door into a cozy lobby area that connects to a small dining hall. An elder Nautolan greets them. Her blue tendrils are twisted together down her back, held in place by a black ribbon.

“Welcome.” She salutes, immediately gravitating towards the child in the pod, cooing over his cuteness, seemingly completely unaffected by the fact that a Mandalorian in full beskar just stepped into her inn. She introduces herself, telling her name is Yina while getting some papers to check them into their room. Din signs, he feels a bit reluctant to do so, but he knows it’s just a formality.

She collects the papers looking at the now filled line at the bottom of the page. She smiles at him. “Well, Mando, why don’t you two go get settled in your room, and then I’ll tell our chef to get dinner ready for the two of you.”

“Thank you, that would be nice, but it’s only the kid that will be eating.”

She hands him the key to the room, giving the kid another friendly smile.

The room is nice, simple but nice, with a big freshener. Din put the kid's pod in the corner before picking up the child, who is starting to become a little cranky. “I know it has been a long day kid, let’s get you washed up and get you into some new clothes then dinner will probably be ready.”

Din will have to wait till the kid has fallen asleep to use the refresher and to get something to eat. Din is used to the freeze-dried nutrition packets he usually lives off, but he always makes an effort to get real food for the kid. He gets the things he will need for the kid’s bath from the small bag he brought from the crest.

–

You fold the last sheet and adds it to the basket with the others. You’re humming an old lullaby, it is one Yina used to sing to you as a child. You like the laundry cellar, the cool cellar is a nice escape from the heat and you enjoy the smell of the laundry detergent. You have just finished the last load, timing it perfectly with the setting of the suns, meaning you wouldn’t be overwhelmed by heat when you step up from your underground haven.

You grab the basket of fresh linens, balancing it against your hip as you climb the stairs.

Yina had let you sleep in this morning. You had tried to scold her for not waking you up when you finally had made it downstairs - but she wouldn't have any of it, telling you that there's no reason for you to get up so early anyway. It was, technically, true. You don’t have many overnight guests this time of year. The inn still making an okay profit since you have many loyal local customers coming to the inn’s restaurant - many agreeing that your chef, Groob, is the best in Mos Eisley if not all of Tatooine.

But you still don’t like it when Yina lets you slack off. You want to help as much as you can, take some off the burden. It was only recently that you had been able to persuade her to take a weekly off-day. You know she loves the Inn and is kind of a workaholic but you want to take care of her and ensure she is not overworked. She had powered through your entire childhood, taking care of the inn and raising you with all the love and care a child could ask for, all by herself. She had not had an easy life. She had grown up on Takodana but had fallen in love with a man from Tatooine, she had decided to follow her heart and leave her family in Andui and travel with him to Tatooine. They had gotten married, but tragedy struck and he died shortly after their wedding. She had been alone on a foreign, arid planet, mourning the loss of her love, but she had worked hard to save enough money to buy the inn. It had only been a couple of years after that you had been left on Yina’s doorstep as an infant.

You close the stairwell door and turn off the light after you. You find Yina behind the front desk in the lobby after you have put the clean sheets away.

“There you are, love. Already finished the laundry?” Yina smiles at you while putting away some paperwork.

“Yeah, I just finished the last load.” You join her by the front desk, stealing a glance at the papers. “Have we gotten a new guest?”

“Yes, a man with the cutest little youngling I've seen since you were a baby.” She says while getting on the other side of the desk, booping your nose on the way before sticking her head into the kitchen. You are pretty curious about this new guest. You rarely get off-planet folks, those people will usually stay in the lodging over the big cantina in town. The guests at the inn mostly consist of moisture farmers, or tradespeople from Mos Espa or other towns whenever they needed to visit Mos Eisley. Yina gets back from the kitchen, grabbing her shawl from behind the counter, to get ready to leave. You had insisted on taking the night shift since you had slept till so late.

“I’ll leave you to it then.” She says as she put the fabric over her shoulders. “I gave Groob their dinner orders.” She grabs the last of her things. “I told him to cook you something too.”

You smile at her, thankful to have her always care for you, even though you are more than old enough to take care of yourself.

“Should I get the crib for their room?” You ask before she leaves out of the backdoor leading up to the apartment.

“No they had their own with them, but you should probably get the highchair from the backroom.”

You bid her goodnight before going out to the back to get the chair for the child. You don’t have much more to do, the dining hall is empty and it’s too late for new customers to come in so you grab your datapad to get a little reading done.

You are soon totally engrossed in your story, you’ve come to a really exciting chapter, making you miss the familiar squeaks of the stairs. You first realize that you’re no longer alone in the lobby as the man stands right in front of you at the other side of the counter you currently lean against. You let out a squeal of surprise, feeling your face get warm in embarrassment, from your outburst, but the fact that you just had reached a rather steamy scene in the story you were reading did not help. The man, however, doesn’t really react to your outburst. You take in the sight of him before you. A man, or at least who you think is a man, towers before you covered in armor from head to toe, and a little green child with large black eyes is settled at his hip. It is in many ways a bizarre vision, but also bizarrely cute. The child is in itself adorable, but the way it’s calmly being held by the tall, brute-looking man while grasping the man's gloved thumb with it's little claw hand and looks at you with big curious eyes.

“I’m Mando, I just checked into room 8. I was told some food would be prepared for my kid.”

His voice is slightly modulated by the helmet, but not enough to hide the rich, gentle warmth of it.

Mando, you think for a second. Mandalorian. The man in front of you is a Mandalorian. You remember reading about them when you were younger, how they were a fearless warrior-people. You realised you were starring, get yourself together.

“Yes, of course. Yina told me we had gotten new guests”. She didn’t mention it was a bloody Mandalorian though.

“Follow me, I’ve gotten a chair ready for the little one. The food will be ready in just a moment.” You say as you bring them with you to the table you had made ready for them. The man seemed surprised by the gesture, slightly tilting his helmet as he sees the highchair. You tell them to make themselves comfortable before going out to the kitchen to get the food.

You tell Groob that you will clean the kitchen after you have eaten your dinner. The Rodian gives you a big smile, thanking you before wishing you a good evening before leaving for the night. You get a tray ready, grabbing the bowls with the steaming stew, and add a big glass of bantha milk for the child. The food smells amazing making your stomach rumble and you realise how hungry you have become. You balance the tray as you open the door to the diningroom with your elbow. The child’s head turns the second you open the door, visibly excited by the prospect of food. You put the child's dinner down on the table and the little green kid digs in immediately, making small sounds of delight. You can’t help but chuckle at the little one’s joy. The Mandalorian scolds him, telling him to slow down so he won’t make himself sick. The love and care he holds for his child is undoubtable. A gentle loving tone in his voice even when he reprimands the little one about table manners.

You don’t really know what to do now if you should go back to the kitchen to eat your own dinner or if the man and child wouldn’t mind you sitting at one of the other tables in the dining hall. You don’t get time to make a decision before the solid black visor from the armored man is focused on you.

“Won’t you sit down with us, I think he will appreciate having someone to eat with.” He tilts his head towards the child who gently coos up at you. You smile at the little green cutie-pie.

“I would love to keep this little cutie with company”. You say before sitting down at the table. You are very curious about the pair, you don’t know much about Mandalorians and you don’t even know what kind of being the child is. What kind of being they are since he must be his father.

“What’s his name?” You ask, thinking that would be a good start to get to know the duo better without stepping over the line.

“I don’t actually know, I usually just call him kid.” He shrugs, wiping some stew from the corner of the youngling's mouth with a napkin.

“He… He is my foundling.” The Mandalorian follow up with.

You look at the child. A foundling, huh, just like yourself. You smile at the kid.

“Well, he is very cute.” You conclude. “With or without a name.”

The Mandalorian chuckle, a deep warm sound that makes something in your stomach flip.

“That he is.” He agrees. You continue the rest of the meal with light small talk. You gather the idea that the man doesn’t take off the armor around strangers, it does fit with something you think you read about Mandalorians. You wonder if it includes the child or if he gets to see his father without the helmet. You feel like asking him would be to overstep, but you are curious. Instead you ask him when he will eat, hoping that it was an okay question.

“I usually eat after he has fallen asleep. ”

That makes sense, but you still can’t wrap your head around how he gets enough food and water through out the day. The child finishes his meal soon after, starting to look very sleepy. Mando chuckles at the little one, which heads keep nodding with sleep. The sound so warm and gentle. You can’t stop yourself from thinking how beautiful the sound is. He scoops the kid up in his arms.

“I better get him off to bed.” He says voice as gentle as ever. “Thank you for the company, I feel bad that he has to eat alone so often.”

You smile up at him. “It was my pleasure. Sleep well you too” You say as you get up from your chair and start to collect the empty dishes.

“You too.” He says before heading up to the room with the child.

You can’t help but smile as you return to the kitchen. You hum as you finish up the dishes, you’re efficient and finish the work fast. You look around the spotless kitchen, pretty proud of your work, as you wrap your cardigan tighter around yourself, pulling on the sleeves to warm your wrists. The temperature always falls significantly after sunsdown.

You can go up to the apartment now since there isn’t really more for you to do down here, but you kind of lingers in the kitchen. You had gotten an idea, but you were unsure if it would be welcomed or not. You could cook something for the Mandalorian, bringing it up to his room so he could eat in peace but still get a real meal instead of the flavourless nutrition-packs you learned he eats. You’re no Groob, but you are a decent cook. You make a quick decision, finding ingredients for a fairly simple but very tasty soup you enjoy. You cut bread into thick slices which you heat up on the stove. You fill up a new tray, carefully arranging the food before putting a lid over it.

You carefully climb the stairs. When you finally reach the door for room 8 doubts start to kick in. He might not even like the food you have made, or it will make him uncomfortable that you had fixated on what he told you in the dinner hall. You stand frozen in front of the door for a while longer, dicussing with yourself if you should put the try down or not.

But you finally take a deep breath before putting the tray down in front of the door. You knock on the door, gently enough to not wake up the sleeping child or the man if he already had gone to bed. You turn on your heels immediately getting away before the Mandalorian in the room could open the door.

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xmissrogersx · 2 months

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“Love Story” | Din Djarin

tags | din djarin x female reader. Fluff. Commander brown eyes. Rescue grogu.

a note from me | this scene lives in my mind 24/7

My writing is entirely my own. Any adaptation and/or copy is forbidden.

I hope you are enjoying my stories! U help me a lot if you give me a ♡! All the love.

-Taking it off is better.

I closed my eyes mentally counting to 10 and praying Din wouldn't kill Mayfeld.

-Concentrate on the road, will you? —I exclaimed for him to finish at once, he nodded in surprise at my outburst and didn't utter another word.

I felt a caress on my hand from the Mandalorian thanking me for what I had said.

We made it to the base successfully despite the disturbances on the way. We were greeted with applause and praise, which delighted Mayfeld, as Din held me by my waist to help me down.

-I still can't believe you're wearing that. I never imagined I'd say this but I miss the beskar on you, but I'll always prefer what's underneath —I whispered, to which he intensified his grip.

-Don't test me, mesh'la.

I laughed softly and we headed for the terminal.

-There must be one in the mess hall.

The convict headed for the room, only to stop dead in his tracks and come back to us.

-I can't do it —he said, slightly frightened.

-Why not? —Din exclaimed.

-It's Valin Hess, my old boss. I was doing field work, but I won't risk him recognizing me. The operation is cancelled.

-If you don't do it, she and I will lose the child forever...

-I'm sorry, I'm not going to do it.

-Give him to me.

-You can't. The network is enabled with facial recognition. Let's go.

-I'll do it —I exclaimed grabbing the device, to which it was quickly snatched away from me by a pair of gloved hands I knew.

-No, I will do it. I won't let you do this.

-At least let me cover for you —I said, begging him. He nodded unconvinced.

We entered the room at a distance. I kept in the spotlight at the entrance, trying to glimpse possible exits in case I needed them. I just wanted to get out of there and rescue my little Grogu.

But suddenly the sounds of the world had gone silent and I felt myself holding my breath in my chest: I watched as my Mandalorian removed his helmet quickly, to use the facial scan on the terminal.

Of course Din Djarin would have brown curls. I knew from the countless number of times I had felt them, even without seeing him to maintain the safety of his creed, I knew he had beautiful hair.

-Trooper —I heard from the side, making me jump in fear. It was Valin, who was approaching me.-Tell me your designation.

-Transport —said Din in his unmodulated voice.

-And your TK number?

-Number TK-593, sir. It's my commander —said Mayfeld. -You'll have to talk to him a little louder, his ship lost pressure at Taanab.

-What's your name, officer? -he exclaimed, raising his voice.

-We call you Commander Brown Eyes, don't we? -to which the three of us nodded.

He turned to me, and smiled in a way that sent shivers down my spine.

-What's yours, beautiful? -I mentally counted to a million so as not to wipe the smile off his face. I quickly thought of the scent of my favorite perfume, so I took the easy way out.

-Yasmin, sir. I really like the uniforms —I batted my eyelashes, hoping he'd buy it. The idiot smiled again.

-Let's have a drink, brown eyes —he walked to the table next to Mayfeld, to which we followed behind them. I felt Din put his hand on my lower back, reassuring me.

-I'm going to get something real to celebrate his triumph —he walked away from the table.

I looked to my left and crossed eyes with Din, who looked really paralyzed. According to him, the world was watching his face, but especially one of the 2 people that made up his was doing it. I caressed his hand, for even though he was wearing the glove I wanted to convey the love I had.

-You are very beautiful, Din Djarin. I always knew you were, but most of all I admire how brave you are —I said so that only he could hear me.

-You give me that courage, cyar'ika. I'm sorry to put you through this.

-Why do you say that? —I frowned.

-I didn't promise you this, to be on the edge of danger all the time, it's my fault that the child…

-Sh, don't say that —I put my hand on his lips, to which he closed his eyes wanting to absorb my touch.-You saved me, Din. Running away from that hell was the best decision I made so far. Rather, that you will rescue me. My brave and strong Mandalorian.

He laughed softly at the nickname I used to call him. Unfortunately the moment was interrupted by the sound of Valin's footsteps approaching.

-Very well, now tell me, what shall we drink to? to the empire? Cheers, success? I don't want to sound original —he exclaimed, laughing.-Where are you from, brown eyes?

Din looked at him not knowing what to answer.

-How about Operation Ash? -said Mayfeld, returning to Hess' focus.

The next few minutes I felt like my heart was going to pound out of my chest. Mayfeld began to cross words with Valin, disturbing the atmosphere.

-It was for the common good, son.

Suddenly, he raised his glass in a toast, to which our colleague shot him with his blaster.

We looked at him speechless. He started shooting at the rest of the people in the room.

-You did what you had to do. I never saw your face —he extended the Trooper helmet to Din, who turned to me to put our foreheads together for a few seconds before covering his face.

Finally, after what was one of the most dangerous escapes we had ever experienced, we were on our way to rescue Grogu. As I watched the vastness of space through the small opening of Boba's ship, I felt arms around my waist, making me turn to face him.

-When this is over, we'll go to Sorgan and take a break. I promise, cyare.

-I go where you go, Din. Grogu,and all of us are my home.

-Us? -he asked confused. Dan Farrik, shit, I didn't measure the words I had said.

I closed my eyes briefly and looked up at his visor again.

-I'm sorry, I wanted to tell you this time, but everything happened so fast...

-Are you pregnant? —he exclaimed almost in a whisper. I nodded with small tears on my face.

Next, Din raised his hands to his helmet to remove it. At the sight of his beautiful face, along with his crystallized brown orbs, my cheeks instantly became soaked.

He rested his gloved hand on my slightly bulging belly, which he had concealed. He knelt down to my knees, placing a kiss on it.

A clan of four.

#pedro fanfic #pedro pascal #pedro x reader #din djarin x female reader #din djarin fanfiction #din x reader #din djarin #mando x reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin x female oc #the mandalorian #din djarin fic #din djarin fluff #pedro is daddy #pedrostories #pedro pascal fanfiction #din djarin x original female character #the mandalorian x reader #din grogu

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kaysfanficcorner · 1 year

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Out of This World Chapter 7: Stellar

Author’s Note: Well, here we are. From here on out this story is going to be SPICY. As we make our way into the events of season two, be ready for things to heat up considerably. I’m both nervous and thrilled to share this chapter with you, so please be kind and above all else ENJOY! My use of Mando’a is about to ramp up as well, and I’ve attempted to to give definitions within the story itself, but if I use any words you aren’t familiar with feel free to ask me about it. As always, if you want to join the Taglist please let me know!

Jate - Good Ca - Night Elek - Yes Ad - Son

Summary: As we make our way into the events of season two, things between the Mandalorian and the Earthling start to really heat up.

Pairing: Din Djarin X Female Earthling Reader

Warnings: Warnings: Angst, Cursing, Light action violence, Nudity, Graphic depictions of sex. SMUT AND FLUFF ABOUND 🌶️

If you are under the age of 18 you are prohibited from this work of fiction.

Music Inspiration

We Might Even Be Falling In Love - Themes inspired

Music Inspiration

Stellar - Title inspired by, themes inspired

AO3

Original OOTW Fanart by Justin Wood (at the end)

*****

Life back on the Razor Crest feels incredibly strange after all that has changed. You feel like a different version of yourself when you once again climb the ramp to the ship you now openly consider to be your home. You’d left it feeling like a shell of a person after killing Ranik and now you’re returning with a stronger disposition, determined to become a warrior in your own right. Determined to feel like you can pull your weight around the ship as an equal to the Mandalorian. You’d also left the Razor Crest completely unsure of where you and Din stood with each other. The mild flirting and signals here or there had been maddening, and now the two of you are closer than you were before. Which is maddening for entirely different reasons.

You’re so happy to be reunited with your cat that you spend a good ten minutes carrying her around the ship, until she gets restless enough to pry herself from your arms. Jupiter is thrilled in her own feline way to have everyone back on board, and the kid is just as thrilled to be back home with her. Similarly to yourself, the little green child won’t leave her alone for the first few days out in space.

On the second day after Nevarro, you even walk in on the kid using his powers to grab at Jupiter’s tail from a few feet away. Every time the poor orange feline meows and tries to whip around to slash at an assailant that isn’t actually there, the kid giggles. You’d scooped him up and giggle too, before booping him on the nose and lightly telling him he shouldn’t use his powers to mess with people or animals.

The Space RV is pretty much just how it had been left, save for the little tune ups here and there that were ordered. Being back on board is both a comfort to you, and a frustration. Frustration eventually evolves into aggravation, and it isn’t until a few weeks have gone by that you come to terms with why you’re so fucking irritable all the sudden.

It’s Din.

You came back to the Razor Crest assuming that things were going to continue to feel the way that they had on Nevarro, that Din would continue you dote on you with the soft side of his personality that is only ever meant for you or the kid to experience. Somehow what you end up getting from your cosmic companion is the complete opposite. He’s not touchy feely anymore, and the words of affection have drifted from his tongue.

As the weeks drag on, you sincerely miss the inn on Nevarro. Comfortable bed aside, now that you’re home on the Space RV, you and Din no longer sleep next to one another. It’s back to taking turns in the cot. You’d gotten used to the feeling of your bodies intertwining as you both drifted off to sleep, and it’s hard for you to find comfort in your nightly rest without it. Sometimes he’d spoon you, others you’d been the one holding him. If you had to choose a favorite position, holding Din while he fell asleep would hands down be the winner. Feeling his body relax against you, limbs twitching here and there as his mind switches over from consciousness to unconsciousness, is something you’d come to treasure by the end of the week long stay on your beloved lava planet.

As upset as you are that you’re not going to be able to sleep next to Din like that any time soon, you’re even more upset that you never got around to sleeping with Din while having such a luxurious bed at your disposal. With the kid around there was just never a good time to try again.

Being home, it’s painfully obvious that there aren’t a ton of comfortable places to have a sexual encounter on the Crest. Declarations of mutual attraction and a week of fluffy little moments had been absolutely lovely, but you’re dying to consummate whatever this is between the two of you. Wondering when or if a good time for it will ever present itself is making you extremely antsy, and its becoming impossible to hold it in around the increasingly grumpier Din Djarin you find yourself stuck with. It’s driving you nuts, to the point where now you’re just getting pissed off about it.

Perhaps he’s dealing with similar frustrations about what’s going on between you. Perhaps it’s the fact that he’s got your makeshift family on a wild goose chase to drop off one of it’s members with complete strangers. More than likely, as it is with yourself, its a combination of the two things.

You’re perfectly aware that aside from the issues going on between the adults, a part of your heart shatters every single time you share a loving moment of fondness with the child. That being said, your only goal in regards to the little foundling is to love him and enjoy your remaining time together.

Which is one of the reasons why, today, you’re so pissed off at Din that you could punch that fucking helmet off of his head and risk breaking your own hand in the process. It’s as if he’s actively trying not to enjoy his time with anyone.

The Razor Crest is parked at a star port for a quick refuel, and so you insist that loading up on some more food and supplies for the cat is a necessity. Din just seems completely irritated with you when you suggest this, and it’s all you can do not to snap at him.

With a huff you tell him, “I’ll just go take care of it myself, you don’t have to come.”

“Absolutely not,” he counters, arms crossed over his chest.

You roll your eyes so hard that you nearly pull an ocular muscle. “Okay, then come on. The sooner we get this over with the sooner we can get back on the road.”

“Fine,” Din agrees, voice dripping with animosity.

Between you, the child can sense your friction and his ears are casting downward as he frowns. He clearly dislikes his humans being snippy with one another. You sense this, so you scoop him up into your arms and begin walking down the ramp.

“Shouldn’t we use the pram?” Din asks, watching the two of you walk off.

You call over your shoulder, “Screw the pram. Just come on.”

And so you’re forced to shop for food with an uninterested, grumpy Mandalorian hovering over your shoulder and you feel as if you’re going to explode at any minute. Fighting with Din is the last thing you want, but if you aren’t able to have a conversation with him about what his problem is you’re afraid it’s going to come to that sooner rather than later.

What you really don’t understand is why a conversation hasn’t been had already. Aside from that first awkward month of living together, the communication between yourself and Din has been pretty good up to this point. Why it feels like you suddenly can’t approach him, you do not know. It’s starting to make your fight or flight instincts want to kick in, reminding you of what it felt like to constantly be on edge around your toxic family. Din is far from toxic, but it triggers you nonetheless.

So you try your hardest to ignore him, juggling the baby on one hip as you look at he various foods before you. The shop on the star port is small, and much like gas stations on the side of big highways back on Earth, the food seems both overpriced and unhealthy compared to the various fresh markets you’ve been to.

“Would your son like a free sample?” A voice suddenly catches your attention.

You look up from the vegetables to see an attractive young human man behind the counter. His dark skin is in contrast from his white hair and light blue eyes, and he’s dressed very plainly. A kind simile graces his features as he holds out what looks like a fried frog leg on a stick towards the baby, who is in turn grasping for it hungrily.

“What? Oh,” you hear yourself still sounding on edge so you try to force your voice to become pleasant with a fake smile plastered to your face. “Uh, yes thank you. He’s constantly hungry so I can’t say no to free food.”

“Here you go little fella,” the man says, smiling down at the kid as he hands it to him. “You have a beautiful family, ma’am.”

The compliment causes your chest to swell and you squeeze the kid tighter. Just as you’re about to say thank you and move on, the man speaks again.

“What’s his name?”

Then the tightness in your chest drops down into your stomach, a feeling of dread washing over you. How fucking embarrassing, even though it’s no one’s fault that neither you nor Din know the kid’s actual name. You fumble around for a quick answer, “Oh, well you know how it is with babies. He’s got a ton of nicknames. We hardly ever call him his real name because I can’t stop calling him ‘Green Bean’ at the moment.”

The man laughs, throwing his head back a little. “Oh, I get it. My wife can’t stop calling our little one ‘chubby cheeks.’ I keep telling her it’s going to give the kid a complex but she doesn’t listen.” He looks past you to where Din is standing behind and to your right side, “I’m sure you can relate, sir.”

You look back to Din, making a face that hopefully reads as “just play along”. The beskar helmet looks at you for a long moment, his shoulders squaring. Eventually he looks to the vendor with a shrug, “I try not to fight her on much.”

You can’t help but feel that his statement was directed at you just as much as the vendor, hoping that this is him making an attempt to address the misplaced bitterness between you. If it is, his timing really does suck. The kid is already done with his frog leg, so you take the pointy stick from him before he accidentally pokes himself.

With another laugh, the kind vendor nods his head, “I should try that with my wife and see if it gets me out of trouble more often.” The man reaches below the counter and pulls out another of the free samples. “Here, have another leg for Green Bean. On the house.”

“Thank you,” you say, smiling brightly at the man. As annoyed as you had been when you entered the shop, having a friendly human encounter has helped to liven you up a little. You look down at the child in your arms, jerking your head towards the man. “Say bye, Green Bean.”

The kid complies, ears shifting as he looks to the man with a big smile on his tiny mouth. He gurgles and makes a few noises, using his free hand to wave up at the nice man.

You make a few more purchases, including more protein packs for Jupiter, and when you have everything on your list you inform Din and the child that it’s time to head back to the ship. Once the group is no longer around other people in the sanctity of the Razor Crest, you look down at the baby on your hip and lift him up so that you can kiss him on the head. “I wish we knew your real name, buddy. Sorry we have to call you ‘Green Bean’ or ‘the kid’ all the time.”

Din walks up beside you and speaks in a low voice. “I wish you wouldn’t do that,” his tone is sharp.

Great, you think sarcastically. With a sigh, you stop what you’re doing and turn to look up at him. “Do what, Din?”

“Pretend that we’re his parents,” he says flatly, irritation floating just bellow the surface.

“I didn’t feel like explaining the real situation to that guy,” you offer lamely.

“You could have just declined his offer and moved on.”

“The kid was hungry.”

“You enjoyed it when that man called him your son,” Din’s voice sounds like it’s on the edge of control.

“Oh my God,” you groan with frustration, “yes! Okay? I did. Is that such a crime? I’ve practically been his foster mother for months. And like it or not you’ve been his foster father for much longer than that. I love him as if he was mine, and I’m not going to apologize for that.”

“It is irresponsible,” Din quietly seethes, you can practically hear his jaw clenching under the helmet.

“What is?” It’s all you can do not to raise your voice, “Giving him a home full of love? Letting him be a child?��

The kid makes a sad little noise between you and you both stop to look down at his distressed face. A feeling of guilt arises in your chest, having never wanted to make the kid feel as uncomfortable as you did when your own parents would fight in your presence.

“We shouldn’t do this in front of him,” Din finally says after a long moment of silence. He reaches out to touch one of the child’s downcast ears. The kid is clearly upset. “It’s okay, pal. We aren’t fighting.”

You drop your voice even lower as your eyes fill with tears. “We kind of are, Din. I hate this. Why are we being so cold towards each other? This isn’t us. At least, I didn’t think it was.”

He sighs heavily, “You’re right. This isn’t us. I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry too,” you move closer to him, grabbing one of his gloved hands. “But I’m not sorry for how I treat this child. What if we take him to these Jedi people and they aren’t who we think they are? Or what if they are great, but the kid still doesn’t like it? Don’t you want him to know that he has a place to come back to where he is loved?”

“I…” Din seems to falter for a second before dipping his head towards his foster son, “Yes. I want him to know that. I want you to know that, buddy. ”

You squeeze his hand tighter, looking into the visor as you speak. “Think about us, what our childhoods looked like. We didn’t get to enjoy being kids for very long. I couldn’t live with myself if I thought I was denying him the right to actually be a child while he’s in my care. I realize that when we do find the Jedi, its going to be extremely hard on all of us. And I realize that the more attached we get to each other, the harder it’s going to be to say goodbye. I know that this is going to be especially hard on you as the one who’s been caring for him the longest, but pretending that you don’t have feelings wrapped up in this isn’t going to make it any easier. We owe to to him as well as ourselves to treat him with love. Is he not an integral member of your two person clan?”

“It’s already hard,” Din says, voice choked, “I am going to miss him.”

“I’m going to miss him too,” you agree, misty eyes threatening to boil over as you cradle the child between the two of you. Din places a hand to the back of his tiny head so that you are both holding him. “But as long as he knows he can always be a part Clan Mudhorn, we may not have to miss him forever.”

Din seems to agree with this, gently touching his beskar forehead to the child’s fleshy one as he speaks to him in Mando’a. “Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum, ner ad.”

You’ve been studying very basic phrases, numbers, and the Mando’a alphabet since leaving Nevarro, but what Din just said is almost completely lost on you. Not wanting to break from this tender moment, you decide that asking for a definition can wait until later. Instead you snuggle into the small group embrace, whispering to the green child that you love him dearly.

“It’s nice to have you back,” you tell your Mandalorian after he lifts up to pull apart from you. His body language is more akin to the Din you know, less stiff.

“Thank you for reminding me to be here,” Din replies.

You set the kid down between you, letting him waddle off to find Jupiter or something to mess with that he shouldn’t. You look at Din, opening your arms to offer him a real hug. “Still friends?”

He nods, pulling your body against him, “Elek, ner burc’ya.”

Instead of responding with the word in basic, you decide to reply to him with the Mando’a word for good, “Jate. I am sorry for letting my bitchiness get the better of me. It was not easy to go from having you feel like my partner on Nevarro to unexpectedly getting the cold shoulder for over half a month.”

“I thought I needed to pull away,” Din confirms.

“Yeah, well next time you feel the urge to pull away can we try to talk about it first?”

“I will try,” he sighs, “I’m not good at this.”

“You were doing great on Nevarro. Real boyfriend material.” Cringing, you wish to hell that you hadn’t just said that last part. If this thing between the two of you does end up progressing even further, boyfriend is the absolute wrong term for a man like Din. It sounds so… Earthy.

Din squeezes you, “On Nevarro things didn’t feel real. It felt like time had stopped and all there was, was you, me, and the kid. I could have stayed there forever, and when I realized this it unsettled me.”

You can’t help but chuckle a little, “Aww, Din. You had the post-vacation blues. It happens to everyone, totally normal.”

“I did not care for it.”

*****

A few more weeks go by and things between you and Din have improved considerably. He’s no longer shutting you out or acting cold, and the communication between you is more at the surface.

Unfortunately, though, the two of you have still yet to take any measures to further your budding relationship along. Now that you’re no longer irritated with him, you really just wish that you could fuck him already. It’s getting to the point where it’s actively a problem.

Din seems to be able to tell that something is up with you, because he eventually calls you out on it when the two of you are practicing with whipchord launchers on the lower deck of the ship. He’s begun training you on the various weapons that a Mandalorian considers to be essential, and up until now you’ve been incredibly enthusiastic. Even though a lot of what he’s trying to teach you does not come naturally, and most days you end up both exhausted and vexed, you approach every one of his lessons with respect.

Today, however, all the fervor has drained from you. The whipchord launcher seems impossible to use, and Din’s so fucking mesmerizing that you you could care less about weaponry. Watching him move so effortlessly to shoot his whipchord at the makeshift dummy he’d set up only serves to cause your mind to wander to lewd places. Horny and nonplused, your heart just isn’t in training and it must be obvious.

“What’s going on with you?” Din asks, stopping mid sentence when he figures out that you haven’t been listening.

“Sorry, I’m just in a mood,” you explain with a half hearted shrug, “I swear I’m trying to pay attention.”

His shoulders soften a little as he looks you over, “Is it anything I can help with?”

You stare at him for a long moment, knowing full well that the kid is within earshot only a few feet away. He’s curled up in the cot with his meerkat toy and his silver ball, watching you and his dad with huge eyes. Considering your words carefully, you say, “Actually you’re the only one who can help with this particular problem, but it’s most definitely not the right time to talk about this.”

Din follows your gaze to his foundling, then his silver head snaps back to you, “Oh.”

“I can’t help it that you’re really attractive and distracting,” you smirk a little, bouncing on the balls of your feet as you watch him.

“Mm,” Din seems to consider his own words carefully before responding to you. “Tell you what, if you can master the whipchord while overcoming your distraction, I’ll let you jump the Razor Crest into hyperdrive by yourself. A warrior must learn to fight in spite of distractions, to purge them from the mind completely in the face of battle.”

“Deal, Chrome Dome,” you agree with a grin. You’ve been practicing your flying almost daily, but he’s barley let you touch anything in the cockpit without his strict supervision.

And so you practice over and over again, listening to every word Din says to you. Each syllable you let soak in with respect, ignoring the fact that he now seems to be purposefully doing things to distract you. He keeps flexing as he shows you the controls or titling his head a certain way. Then you know he’s really trying to get under your skin when he comes up behind you to adjust the forearm holding the spare vambrace he’d given you, and he gently presses his slight bulge into your ass.

Even though you can’t see his face, you know for a fact that he’s enjoying every moment of tormenting you. It’s all over his body language, which you’re getting increasingly better at reading. Who knew that Din Djarin has a wicked side.

Eventually you’re able to successfully launch the chord at the dummy, watching as it wraps around it just the way Din showed you. You try to yank the thing forward and knock it onto its side, simulating the act of pulling an enemy to the ground in one fell swoop. But nothing happens, much to your shock and disappointment. As hard as you’re trying, you just can’t seem to get this right.

“Ugh,” you groan.

“It’s okay, Cyar’ika,” your cosmic companion comforts, a hand on your shoulder as he peers down at you. You can see your frustration in the silver reflection. “You’ll get it eventually,” he adds. Obviously you have no idea what his face is doing behind the beskar barrier, yet for some reason you feel as if he’s looking at you fondly.

You repeat this action until it’s almost coming naturally, and Din decides that he’s pleased with enough with your progress that he declares the training session to be over. After cleaning up and putting the dummy away, you both realize that the kid is napping in the cot. The two of you decide to leave him there as you climb up to the cockpit one at at time.

Once upstairs, you look to Din with a sigh, “Sorry about getting distracted earlier. I was definitely on edge.”

“You’re still on edge,” Din observes, “Your body is very tense.”

“Yeah I guess you’re right,” you mumble, moving forward to wrap your arms around his waist. “I miss sleeping next to you.”

Din’s arms find you, “I miss that as well. But I know that’s not where this tension is coming from. You’ve been like this for the last couple of days.”

Cheeks flushing, you burry your head into his shoulder with a groan. “Am I that obvious?”

“You’ve been giving off signals,” the Mandalorian chuckles a little. “But I am not without tension of my own. I’m sorry that there hasn’t been a good moment for us to resume what we started on Nevarro.”

“It’s no one’s fault,” you pull apart from him slightly to look right into the visor. “I think I’m just psyching myself out about it.”

“I don’t understand the phrase.”

“I just mean I’m overthinking it, and subsequently second guessing myself. I haven’t had a partner in almost three years, so I’m worried that I’m a little rusty in the sheets.”

Din scoffs a little, shaking his head, “I have similar worries. I have not… been with another in nearly ten cycles.”

“Fuck, that’s a long time,” you utter softly, wondering how uncomfortable this conversation is for him as he confesses this to you.

Din nods, voice wavering as he speaks, “It hasn’t been entirely up to chance that we have not moved forward. I have not pursued connection with another in so long. Worry of my own inadequacy has been on my mind, preventing me from pursuing you.”

Brow furrowing as you regard your very good friend and possible lover, you reach out to trail delicate fingers over the black visor of his silver helmet as if touching his brow. “Then let’s not rush this. It can happen when the timing feels right for the both of us.”

The Mandalorian leans his head forward to knock lightly into yours, and a warm smile finds it’s way to your lips. No amount of Mandalorian head butts you receive from him are ever too much.

“I know we had a deal but I’d still like to see you jump the ship by yourself. Do you remember what we went over when I last showed you the hyperdrive?” Din asks, lifting up to his full height again as he moves over to the pilot’s seat.

You follow, coming to stand beside him as you look over the many lighted controls. “We talked about how to enter in jump coordinates into the navigational computer.”

Din takes a seat, pulling you down with him so that you’re seated in his lap. “Correct. Do you think you can enter them in without my help?”

You nod, “Yeah, I think so.”

It sounds like there is a smile riding the tone of his voice, “I want you to enter in these coordinates and jump us there.”

A little orange holographic display pops up from Din’s left vambrace, letters and numbers written in Mando’a. You can read some of it, but you squint at it for a moment before you turn your head to look at him. It’s taking most of your will power to ignore the feeling in your belly that stirs from being seated on his warm legs. His lap is comfortable, even with the hard beskar upon his thighs.

“I can only read some of that. I know there’s a x, a three, a four, and a nine.”

“You’ve been studying,” Din says fondly, switching the holograph over to basic so you can read it clearly. The basic alphabet is something you’d memorized with Cara prior to meeting your Mandalorian.

“Learning Mando’a is important to me,” you reply with equal fondness. Neither of you says anything else as you lean forward to begin entering in the coordinates into the computer. Din’s hands come to rest comfortably on your waist as you fumble a little bit with the typing, still not used to all of the symbols yet. Eventually you have the correct information inputed into the system, and then your hand lingers over the button which will jump the ship to those coordinates through hyperspace. You look back to Din and wait for him to give you the okay.

“Punch it, Cyar’ika.”

The ship lurches forward as stars begin their dance all around your metal home, an incredible sense of pride washing over you. Successfully jumping the Razor Crest feels like such an achievement.

When the jump is over in a few hours, Din helps you to bring the ship out of hyperspace. Now the kid is awake again and in his usual seat with Jupiter, so you’re seated in the pilot seat without the added cushion of one Din Djarin. The Mandalorian in question tells you that you’ve jumped the ship just outside the atmosphere of a planet on the outskirts of the outer rim, and that he’s brought all of you there so he can question a crime lord named Gor Koresh about where to find other Mandalorians. There have been rumors that Koresh is an underground beskar dealer, and Din thinks that he may have leads.

According to Din, if he can navigate through the various Mandalorian coverts scattered across the galaxy, then maybe he’ll have a better chance of finding a Jedi. Perhaps one of his own kind has information on where to find such a being. He’s made these Jedi people sound like literal space wizards when trying to explain it to you with what little knowledge he has on the subject, and if you weren’t sour about the fact that the purpose of finding one is to give them the kid, you’d probably be pretty excited to see what a space wizard looks like.

Din assists you in bringing the Razor Crest in for a landing, something you’re only starting to feel slightly comfortable doing, and then the two of you take the kid and the cat downstairs to discuss the plan.

“Follow my lead,” Din says as he hands over your blaster. He also hands you the small dagger you’ve been practicing with and the old whipchord vambrace you’d used earlier. “Do not say anything that’ll get us into trouble, and above all else stay calm. There’s a good chance that this could turn into an ambush for my armor, so try your best to remain unperturbed if things go south.”

You nod, holstering the blaster before strapping the vambrace to your forearm. This one isn’t made of beskar, but you still feel somewhat official adhering it to your person. You’re in your favorite outfit, and it helps to make you feel more confident about going on a mission at Din’s side. You stick the dagger into the side of your right boot, grinning up at Din once you’re done. “I’m starting to feel like a badass, getting to go with you to do cool Mandalorian shit.”

“Don’t get too cocky either,” Din adds, sounding amused.

With the child in his pram, the three of you make your way out of the ship and into the crime ridden streets of the city’s grungy warehouse district. Every run down building is riddled with graffiti, and you know that nothing good must happen in a place like this. It’s all very Gotham City in a weird sci-fi kind of way.

“Yeesh,” you mumble to yourself, eyes flicking around in every direction as your guard moves up on high alert.

Din seems to be purposefully staying under the dim street lamps, and you realize why as you see a glimmer of red to your right. It occurs to you that what you’re seeing is several sets of glowing eyes watching you from deep within a dark alley. When you hear the faintest growl coming from that direction, you quickly pick up the pace in order to keep closer to Mando.

Eventually you come to a stop where a male Twi’lek, as you’ve learned they are called, is working as the doorman for some sort of seedy looking establishment. Din tells him that your group is there to see Gor Koresh, and you’re surprised that the doorman moves to the side without much of a second thought. You’d assumed it was going to be much harder than that to get in.

You and the kid follow your Mandalorian into some sort of underground wrestling match, and you feel even more like you’re in a Batman comic as you take in your surroundings. Aliens of all shapes and sizes are packed into the space, screaming with fistfuls of drinks and paraphernalia as two green pig-like men fight each other in the large ring. The room is smoky, stinking of sweaty men, alcohol, and blood. A cacophony that only seems to get louder the further you tread into the crowd begins to hurt your ears, leaving you to hope that the kid’s big green ones are doing okay. You can only imagine how loud this may sound to him.

Being in a place like this is slightly exhilarating in spite of the nerves you feel. It reminds you of the one time you went to Earth wrestling, or some of the really low rent EDM shows from back in your early twenties. Except on Earth when you had gone to watch wrestling it was old dudes with metal folding chairs, not green Pumba-looking aliens with battle axes.

When your group comes upon a cyclops alien with an open seat on either side and group of goons surrounding him, you assume this must be Koresh. Din takes one of the seats beside him and motions for you to take the seat on the other side, the two of you surrounding the stout man. You try your best to ignore the lecherous stares from some of the other men around you, focusing on Din and the business he is here to conduct.

“This is no place for a child,” Koresh says, causing Din to straighten slightly.

“Where I go, he goes,” Din replies cooly.

The two of them talk things over for a while, until Koresh mentions Din giving his beskar armor up in exchange for information about the other Mandalorians. It’s all you can do not to chime in with something snarky, but you remember what Din had told you about not getting them into trouble. It seems that trouble comes regardless though, when Din says that he’s not going to leave his fate up to chance and Koresh agrees by pulling out a blaster. He shoots one of the wrestlers dead before pointing the blaster right at Din’s unprotected neck.

If he were to fire, Din would be dead in an instant.

Keep calm. Trust him, your voice is whispering inside your head, which also has a blaster pointed to it. All of the goons surrounding Koresh have drawn a weapon and are now pointing it at either Din or yourself. Any patrons who are not involved begin to scream and scatter from the building.

Koresh gives some small speech about how beskar has been rising in price and that he’s become quite fond of it, while threatening to peel the armor from Din’s corpse if he doesn’t give it up. You notice that Din is calmly arming his whistling birds, and the kid sees it too as he closes himself inside the pram. Then, Gor Koresh turns to you for the first time since you’d sat next to him and places a hand on your upper thigh. He’s dangerously close to snaking a hand between your legs, and still you remain calm.

He makes a lewd remark about how he’ll take you as well if Mando is willing to give up just some of the beskar, and Din’s voice never falters as he speaks to the crime lord with an even but forceful tone.

“Tell me where the Mandalorians are, and I’ll walk out of here without killing you.”

Koresh scoffs, “I thought you said you weren’t the gambler.”

“I’m not.”

And with that, Din’s whistling birds take down all of Koresh’s goons who’d had you both at blaster point. Both of you are up from your seats immediately, and you manage to dip down and dodge the oncoming blow from an alien directly behind you. For a second you think of Ranik’s death by your hand on Nar Shaddaa. Then when your body begins to freeze up you’re somehow able to purge the feeling of fear from your system and focus on the situation at hand.

Out of the corner of your eye you can see that Din has his hands full, but your not worried about him as you continue to move away from the man before you and his oncoming attacks. While you are crouched down to avoid a high kick, you pull the dagger from your boot and jam it into his thigh just above the knee. Howling in pain, he falls to the ground as you yank your dagger from his thigh and begin to lift yourself up. He attempts to lunge at you again, so you run the blade along his wrist before standing to your full height to move away from him.

Glancing to Din to make sure he’s still okay, you notice that Koresh is using the fight as a distraction and he’s waddling off towards the back of the arena. Without thinking twice, you take off after him. The rest of the goons are attacking Din, so you’re able to slip away quite easily. Koresh is shuffling as hard as he can but his little legs don’t get the portly man far, so you’re able easily to follow him out into the street. Huffing and puffing, Koresh looks back at you and shouts as you lift your right forearm. Aiming as much as you can with a moving target, you initiate your whipchord and watch with glee as it wraps around Koresh’s legs on the first try. The alien falls to the ground with a grunt and a thud.

“Oh shit,” you exclaim, holding the chord tight, “I did it!”

You can feel the presence of another coming up behind you, but before you can react to a possible attack Mando’s modulated voice is in your ears. Upon hearing your cosmic companion, your body relaxes a little.

“You caught him?” he sounds completely amazed.

“Yeah, holy shit!”

You observe as Din takes the chord from you and swings the end of it up over the light post above your head, pulling Koresh up until he’s hanging upside down in front of you. Din ties him off and then comes to stand before him as he pleads for Din to stop.

“Serves you right for tying to buy me, creep,” you shove at the alien, making him swing a little.

“I’ll tell you where he is, but you must give me your word that you will not kill me,” Koresh pleads, panting.

The Mandalorian steadies him and looks down into the one upside down eye as he speaks evenly, “I promise you will not die by my hand. Now where is the Mandalorian you know of?”

“Tatooine.”

“What?!”

“The Mando I know of is on Tatooine!”

“I’ve spent much time on Tatooine, I’ve never seen a Mandalorian there.”

“My information is good, I tell you! The city of Mos Pelgo. I swear it by the Gatra.”

“Tatooine it is, then.”

Koresh starts screaming for Mando to cut him down as your friend simply motions to you that your group is leaving. The kid’s pram is floating just behind Din as he walks off so you turn to follow as well. When Koresh screams that he can’t be left like that, Din turns back to the little one eyed man with his blaster raised.

“That wasn’t part of the deal,” Din says cooly, and shoots the street light out.

Koresh dangles there in the dark like a piece of meat, and you turn back for a moment to watch as he’s swarmed by those same red eyed creatures from the alley. You quickly spin around and catch up to Mando as the alien’s screams of agony echo behind you.

*****

“I’m going to put him down in the cot, I’ll be right back.” Din says, squeezing your shoulder with his free hand. The kid is sleeping in Din’s other arm and you just nod your head, on the verge of falling asleep yourself.

Space RV is back in hyperspace and you’ve since cleaned yourself up from the fight in the arena. Dressed in comfortable clothes for sleeping, you feel almost cozy curled up in your blanket on the red leather seat. The Mandalorian only leaves you alone in the cockpit for a few minutes, and you start to nod off a little while he’s gone. But then he’s climbing the ladder again, his voice bringing you back to reality.

“Thank you for your help tonight,” he says, moving all the way into the small control room to join you.

“You’re welcome,” you reply, throwing a sleepy little smile up his way.

“The way you handled yourself was… exemplary. Taking the initiative to chase after Koresh, using the whipchord launcher just like we practiced. You kept calm even when we were being held at blasterpoint. I’m very proud of you, ner burc’ya.”

As Din is saying all of this, showering you with compliments, he’s slowly dropping down to his knees in front of you. Positioning himself between your legs, Din’s tone of voice morphs into something akin to sultry, and he reaches a hand forward to cup your face. His gloves and most of his armor have been removed.

“So fucking proud of you,” he says lowly, and your back straightens as his phrasing sobers you up from the sleepiness you’ve been feeling up to this point.

Din never uses that word in the way that you do. In fact, he’s only ever repeated it to you the one time after he had realized it’s definition. So when he says it right now it gets your full attention, causing you to sit up and look at him with raised eyebrows. The blanket falls from your shoulders in a clump behind you.

“Yeah? You’re how proud of me?” You repeat back, scooting yourself forward so that your groin is right up against him. You place a hand on either side of his head and look straight down at the beskar, pleased when he doesn’t move to stop you like he had last time. He trusts that you are not trying to remove it, and that fact alone fills you with joy.

The helmet in question tilts up at a sharp angle to look at you, “Take off your clothes and I’ll show you how proud I am.”

“What’s gotten into you? What happened to taking this slow?”

Din starts to lift the hem of your Bowie shirt, sliding his bare hands underneath the thin fabric as he inches it upwards. “Watching your bravery, seeing you use the skills that I’ve taught you. We felt like a team, like partners.”

“It was pretty nice to feel like I could be useful in a situation like that,” you agree, grinding your hips a little as you speak.

Din’s fingers continue pushing your shirt up until your breasts are exposed, stopping to tease both nipples with soft little pinches. “What I didn't like, was Koresh having the audacity to touch you.”

Your heart is beginning to beat faster, loving where this is going as you play dumb, “Yeah? Why’s that?”

“Don’t like people touching things that don’t belong to them,” he growls, lifting up to be more level with you as he pushes you back against the backrest of your red seat.

“And who do I belong to?”

“Me, Cyar’ika. You are mine,” Din’s voice is so lascivious, you feel as if your entire body could melt into goo right then and there.

“Tell me that again,” you demand as Din begins to yank the yoga pants and underwear from your waist.

He wiggles the fabric out from under your ass, leaning in towards you. “You are mine,” he repeats in that same lusty growl.

You long to run your fingers through hair, his hair, so you squeeze the helmet tighter. “I’m all yours, but that means you have to be all mine.”

“Naturally,” he finishes disrobing your bottom half, discarding with your clothes behind him, “I belong to you.”

Feeling a chill run through you now that most of you is exposed to the cool air, a little moan escapes your lips. You let go of him and rip the shirt from your head before leaning back into the seat more as you spread your legs. Of course, your planet necklace is the only thing adorning your now nude form. “Mmm, tell me that you’re proud of me again. That I did a good job.”

He’s beginning to unfasten his own pants, “I’m so fucking proud of you, Cyar’ika.”

“Show me, Din. Please,” you whine for him.

Din is almost fully dressed save for his hands, but now he’s pulling himself out and you really stop to appreciate how impressive he is when fully hard. Uncircumcised and quite large, he’s unlike any of the sexual partners you’ve been with in the past. The prospect of feeling him enter you is enough to make your entire body quiver with anticipation, core heating up rapidly.

“Oh, fuck,” you breathe, reaching out to take him into your hand. His entire body jerks forward when you make contact, a soft moan escaping him. “What is it, handsome?” Your voice is salacious.

“Been so long,” he mutters, his own wanton voice strained and husky.

You begin to stroke him, loving the way he melts into your hands. He braces himself on your chair as you scoot yourself forward and slide off of it, landing softly on your butt so that you’re at eye level with the impressive appendage. Then you part your lips, tongue protruding, and the noise Din makes when you slide the tip of him into your mouth is one you plan to cherish forever.

Hips bucking involuntarily, Din slides himself in and out as you gently suck. You’re careful not to use too much pressure or teeth, and under the beskar his eyes are rolling into the back of his head at the sensation. This doesn’t feel real. It’s got to be a dream, because nothing in his life has ever felt this fucking good.

“It’s real, Din,” you say as you come up for air, saliva running from the corners of your slightly swollen lips.

Had he said that out loud? He was sure that had been a private thought.

It doesn’t matter, all that matters is the pleasure he hasn’t felt in far too long. The dust and cobwebs have been cleared from his dormant libido, and he can feel a much older version of himself start to reawaken. Your mouth is lovely and warm and wet, but he’s suddenly ready to feel you clamp your muscles around him as you whine in ecstasy.

Pulling out of your mouth with a small pop, he leans back and brings your blanket down with him. You watch him with hunger in your gorgeous eyes as he lays the thick black fabric down on the floor of the cockpit before guiding you to lay down on your back.

You allow him to gently push you down, spreading your legs as he positions himself between them. The floor is hard and unforgiving, and will likely fuck your back up for the following day, but in this moment both of could give a shit less.

“Tell me what you want, ner cyare,” Din demands, swollen cock in one hand as he hovers over you with his other hand finding your soft wetness. It’s not lost on you that he’s calling you a word you do not know, but that can wait. His fingers are grazing over the sensitive swollen flesh of your clit, and nothing else fucking matters anymore.

Hands at the base of his neck, you lift up to whisper into the right side of his helmet, “I want my Mandalorian to fuck me so hard that I forget my own name.”

The heat between your legs only fires up more when you feel the tip of him press into your opening, and when you least expect it he thrusts all the way in. A gargled cry erupts from your throat, pain and pleasure both cascading through you as you realize you really haven’t taken anyone this big before. You’ve never been this full.

“Oh fucking hell,” you grunt, wiggling your hips around to try and adjust to his size pushed all the way in.

“You okay?” He pants above you. Fuck, if only you could feel his tongue in your mouth.

“Don’t stop,” you grunt out again, “you’re just bigger than I’m used to.”

Din pumps in and out, slowly at first but soon his pacing picks up to a more feverish rhythm. Nothing about this is picturesque. It’s rough, and raw, and messy. Both of you are so full of passion that your movements are almost frantically out of sync for the first few minutes. Eventually though, you start to tune yourselves into each other. Your hips rock up to meet his has he thrusts forward, and when your legs wrap around his waist it feels like he enters you even deeper. It feels so intense that you dig your nails into his lower back under the shirt as a loud noise escapes you, louder than any of the noises you’ve made thus far.

Din’s hand comes to clamp over your mouth, adding enough pressure to make you moan even louder against his palm.

“Shh,” he coos, “don’t want to wake the kid.”

With his hand stifling the obscene noises you’re unable to control, Din begins to really fuck you. No gentle thrusting, no consideration for your pain tolerance. He’s slamming into you with so much speed and force that you can barely keep your eyes open to look at him. You’re fully aware that you’re going to be sore tomorrow, but you adore every second of his rough handling of your body. It hurts, but in that way that you’ve learned to crave when it comes to sex.

Then he suddenly pulls out, leaving you feeling empty as he releases you to the ground and sits back on his booted heels. “Shit,” he exclaims, breathing more heavily than you’ve ever heard him. His hands are on his knees as he hunches forward.

Din really had to force himself off of you, afraid that if it went any further he’d finish too soon.

You’re similarly worried, sitting up to look at him with your brow furrowed. This is the most unprotected you’ve ever been, and it’s only just now occurring to you that the two of you need to be careful. “Did you…?”

“Almost,” he’s still catching his breath, “Sorry for being so rough with you.”

“You could be rougher,” you grin at him, “I’ve never been one for gentle sex.”

Crawling forward, you plop down onto your stomach right in front of him and prop yourself up on your forearms. Hesitantly, as this side of Din is so new to you and you’re not sure what will go over well, you stick out your tongue and run it from the base of his lovely cock all the way up to the tip. His body shudders as he moans, and you’re so proud of yourself for being able to cause these reactions in him.

“Mm, I taste so good on you,” you remark, smirking up at him as his head leans back to point up at the ceiling.

Din grunts out, “Oh fuck, Cyar’ika,” as his hips buck forward.

You take the opportunity to pull him all the way into your mouth, letting as much of his length as you can take slide down your throat. Bobbing, you begin to work his cock with your mouth and his hands come to grip at your hair. He pulls harder than you expect him to, but this only serves to kindle the blazing fire in your core as he helps guide your head up and down.

Then he yanks upward, causing you to pop off of him and look up. The beskar helmet is looking directly at you, and you whine a little bit just from the sight before your eyes. Din’s hardness in the foreground and the way his head is tilted down, you can only imagine what his face must look like riddled with lust.

“I want you to cum for me, Din,” you pant, mouth dripping.

He shakes his head, voice taking on a commanding tone that leaves you weak, “I’m not done with you yet. My chair. Now.”

Din never lets go of your hair, walking you on all fours across the short distance to the pilot’s seat. As uncomfortable as this is on your knees, you do not complain one bit. He’s handling you in the way you’ve been fantasizing about for months. You let him guide your naked body up on the seat, chest and stomach pressed down into the leather as you bend over it.

Oh shit, he’s going to take you from behind.

“Ner Mesh’la. Ner Cyare,” he croons, “tell me who you belong to.” He’s positioning himself at your opening once again, so you brace yourself against the seat as you turn to look back at your Mandalorian in all his glory. Din Djarin is absolutely fucking intoxicating like this, and now that you’re finally getting to experience it first hand, you feel as if you never want another person besides him to touch you for the rest of your life.

“I belong to Din Djarin, the best fucking Mandalorian in the galaxy.”

“That’s right, Cyar’ika.” Din grasps onto one of your forearms with his free hand as he places it to your lower back and holds it there. “And who do I belong to?”

“Me,” you moan, “you’re my Mandalorian, Din. All fucking mine.”

The next words that flow from Din’s mouth come so naturally that he doesn’t stop to second guess himself. He unabashedly says how he feels, how he’s been feeling. “Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum.”

You’re squirming beneath him, pushing your ass out. “Quit teasing me,” you whine.

“Don’t get mouthy,” he reprimands lightly, spanking your ass once for good measure.

“Oh shit,” you squeak, looking back at him with a devilish little grin.

“Mm, my girl did so well tonight,” Din says as he begins to slowly push himself into you once more. “So fucking proud of my beautiful fucking girl. My girl deserves everything she wants.”

You feel your body envelope him, and everything else fades away besides Din Djarin. The sensation of his voice and the words he’s saying paired with the feeling of fullness in your core nearly sends you over the edge. This is the closest you’ve ever been to having an orgasm from another person’s involvement, let alone just from penetration. Your free hand moves to play with yourself, hoping to coax climax on if you can.

Then Din starts to pump again, pulling back slowly and then slamming his hips into you at nearly full force. He purposely tortures you with every thrust, loving how much you squirm and quiver each time he gradually pulls out. He really is close, and knows he can’t go on much longer, but he intends to savor every second that he’s inside of you and the effect it has on your body. Your tight wetness is so inviting that he feels like he could move in and never leave.

“Your girl wants you to fuck her harder,” you eventually plea, voice dripping with need.

So Din gladly complies, grabbing both of your hips to steady himself as his movements become relentless. He goes for as long as he possibly can, until he’s dangerously teetering on the edge and has to rip himself from you at the last minute. It’s over so fast, orgasm rocking his body completely as he leans his helmeted head on the small of your back and empties himself onto the floor between your knees with several soft moans. He’ll be sure to clean that up later.

Once he catches his breath, he’s lifting himself from your back to sit on the floor. You slide from the chair, coming to sit on your blanket directly in front of him. Your hair is a mess and your face is flushed, and Din is so enamored with your appearance that he wishes he could kiss you. Truly kiss you.

“How’s my Mando doing?” You ask, leaning forward to kiss his messy tip and lick up some of the remnants. His body shakes violently, a strangled little noise escaping him.

“He’ll let you know when he can think clearly again,” Din eventually chuckles, adrenaline slowly beginning to ebb from him. “That was…”

“Good?” You offer, looking hopeful.

“Magnificent,” he counters, head moving as he looks you up and down. “Did you…?

You grin, “Did I enjoy it? Din, I don’t think there are words for how much I enjoyed that.”

Din wishes you could see his own grin. “I’m glad, Cyare. But I was asking if you finished.”

Then your face falters, souring for a moment before you force a smile back to your lips. Din’s heart drops as a certain awkwardness washes over you. “No, I didn’t. I was close at one point, but its okay. I’m probably not going to.”

“What do you mean?”

You sigh, avoiding his gaze, “I’ve been having sex since I was nineteen, and I’ve never been able to cum when I’m with someone. If I’m alone it happens like it’s nothing, but if I’m with another person it’s like I get close but that’s all that ever happens. A guy went down on me for a full hour once and I still couldn’t climax. I don’t know if it’s that my body just freezes up or I’ve never had a true connection with anyone or what.”

“Your body was hardly frozen,” Din remarks, mulling over this information. His own orgasm feels lessened knowing that you did not experience the same amount of pleasure from the encounter. “You deserve to feel good as well.”

You shake your head, “I do feel good. I don’t have to finish to have good sex with you. And please know, that was very good sex.”

Din’s not taking no for an answer, he’s determined to make this right. “Is there anything more I can do?”

“Unfortunately not with the helmet on,” you say, squeezing his hand. “But it’s not important. I’ve already written that off.”

“What are you talking about?” He asks, but then once he really thinks about it the realization dawns on him. You’re suggesting he preform oral on you. Something he’s only aware of, certainly nothing he’s ever had a chance to try. Xi’an used to beg him to do that for her, but being true to the creed he’s never had sex without his helmet. “Oh.”

“Yeah, so out of respect for you lets not even go there. We should just stop talking about it all together. It’s off the table.” You wave him off as if you really are unconcerned, but Din can see the smallest glimmer of disappointment in your eyes and he simply cannot let this stand.

There’s got to be something he can do instead. He looks around the cockpit as if anything in this room could aid him, and then his eyes land on the pinkish-purple scarf that was given to you on Nevarro. You had recently tied it around the headrest of your seat and declared that you were decorating your space, but now Din thinks of a better purpose the piece of fabric could serve. He refers back to the dream about you that he had right after Nar Shaddaa, and a part of him wonders if this idea is actually taking things too far. Then he looks over your naked body and he suddenly doesn’t care.

It very well could be taking things too far, but that doesn’t seem to matter as Din feels himself moving towards it before the rest of his mind can catch up. He yanks at the fabric until it loosens away from the seat, and then he moves to sit in front of you.

“What are you doing?” You ask, eyeing the scarf skeptically.

“Do you trust me?” Din asks, ignoring your question. You nod, so he continues, “I will not let this happen lightly. If we do this, I need you to vow to me that you will continue to uphold your respect for my way of life.”

“I promise,” you whisper, eyes widening.

Din folds the fabric in fourths longways, holding one end in each hand. His face is completely serious below the beskar. “I have no idea what I’m doing, so this might not even work. But I do not wish to see you disappointed, and I would very much like to know what you taste like.”

You seem to react to this, face melting into the same one that was full of lust just a few moments ago. “Only if you’re one hundred percent sure.”

“I am,” he nods, “Turn around and face that way.”

You comply, moving your body to face in the opposite direction. Din lifts the fabric of the scarf above your head and comes to a stop right in front of your face. You nod once, so Din gently places the fabric over your eyes and ties it tightly behind your head.

“Too tight?”

“No it feels fine.”

“Can you see anything?”

“Not at all, its totally dark under this thing.”

When you eventually hear the hiss of his modulator and the sound of metal clunking to the ground, a thrill runs through your body. Gooseflesh prickles all the way up your arms and legs, up your spine, and comes to rest at the back of your head. The tingling sensation you feel all over is maddening, and he hasn’t even touched you yet.

“Are you okay, Cyare?” His voice sounds completely the same while also sounding so different. Without the speakers of the modulator, it sounds more human. More tangible.

“Whoa, your voice sounds different. I… did you really take it off, Din?” Blanketed in darkness, you’re not sure if what you’re hearing is real.

“I did,” his voice is suddenly in front of you, much closer than it was a moment ago.

Then you feel hands in your hair, and something fleshy brushes up against your nose. “Is that…?”

One of the hands in your hair moves to grab hold of one of yours, gently lifting your fingers upwards until they come in contact with skin.

“My nose,” Din says, trailing your fingers over more skin and you giggle at the feeling of prickly facial hair. Then you’re touching what feels like lips, and this is only confirmed for you when they part slightly and you can feel the heat of his breath. He kisses your fingertips, “My lips.”

“My lips wouldn’t mind getting to know yours a little,” you say with a small laugh, gasping at the end of your sentence when he cups your face and pulls it forward slightly.

“I have not done this since I took the oath,” he says, sounding almost awkward and unsure of himself.

You smile, “I don’t have any expectations, Din. I just want you to be yourself.”

Then your lips are captured in his and suddenly the reality of what is going on really kicks in. Din has taken his helmet off, you are blindfolded to be kept from seeing his face, and he is kissing you. Something that you assumed would never happen, and had come to terms with long before anyone admitted their feelings for the other.

Just as it had been when you were having sex, the movements are feverish and all over the place but soon enough the two of you find rhythm with one another again. Your tongue snakes out from behind your teeth, slowly entering his warm mouth as his own tongue runs over yours in exploration. You think idly that he tastes of caf and something else you can’t place. He moans against you, so you take it that he enjoys your advances. Cradling his face in either hand, you push yourself forward to really get leverage in the kiss. The facial hair feels so nice against your hands, his mustache tickling your nose.

Then he pulls away, a hand to your chest as he gently coaxes you to lay down. You whine a little, openly pouting. Din growls, and the hand on your chest increases pressure.

“I want my mesh’la girl to feel good,” he declares, and you finally give in to the hand pushing you down onto your back.

His lips travel down your neck, pecking every few inches until he makes his way to your breasts. Licking at one of your nipples, he then takes it into his mouth as he nibbles lightly. It sends you into a tizzy until he pulls away.

“Kissing you felt really good,” you finally counter, grinning in his general direction as you lay there. “I was ready to go on for the rest of my life not knowing what that feels like and now you’ve spoiled me and I don’t think I can live without it.”

A hand moves your left leg outward. “Let me spoil you even more, Cyare.” Then another hand moves your right leg, spreading you open. Nothing happens for a moment, until you hear the distant sound of Din inhaling deeply through his nose. “Delicious,” he breathes, referring to the scent of you.

His movements are hesitant at first and when you feel the warmth of his wet tongue for the first time you jump a little, flinching away with a sharp noise when his facial hair tickles the sensitive flesh between your legs. Before he can stop and ask if you’re okay, you assure him that you’re fine and urge him to keep going. You have to consciously keep your legs spread, fighting the instinct to clamp your thighs around his unsuspecting head as he tentatively runs his tongue from the base of your entrance all the way up to the clit. Din repeats this motion several times, before showing complete attention to the swollen nub. You can tell that he’s not sure of himself, that he’s truly never done this before, so you decide to coach him a little bit.

“Mm, oh fuck,” you croak out between moans, “when you swirled your tongue there it felt so-oh god-so fucking good. Try to focus your attention there as much as possible.”

Din carries on with the same strokes of the tongue, and then suddenly you feel a finger pressing against your entrance. It traces the slick opening a few times before sliding in completely, causing you to cry out Din’s name in a feral voice. Then a second finger enters you, then a third, and your eyes roll back behind the blindfold as he beings to pump. Your sense of how long this is going on is completely gone, having no idea how much time is passing. All you know is the pleasure your body is feeling, totally unmeasured by time. Blindfolded and filled up with the Mandalorian’s fingers while his tongue swirls over your clit, you can feel the familiar building sensation that always comes before an orgasm. Arguably, the crescendo of nerves firing up is more pleasurable to you than an orgasm itself and this one builds for a long moment of agonizing intensity.

Legs trembling, suddenly your hands are tangled in Din’s hair as you yank harder than you mean to. “Oh, oh shit. Please don’t stop I think it’s actually happening.”

Then the crescendo tips over, and you’re riding out the waves of orgasm with bucking hips and whining moans. Din laps at you a few more times, your body jerking with each stroke, and you beg him to let up as your sensitivity is temporarily maxed out.

You just lay there, quivering in the aftermath, and Din crawls up to your head. When his lips touch yours again everything feels swollen and slick and wet, especially his mustache. You can taste yourself on him and it causes you to pose the question, “So how do I taste?”, once he breaks apart from you again.

“Delectable, Cyar’ika.”

“Thank you, Din. I am beyond grateful,” you choke, the sudden need to cry washing over you as a small sob escapes your mouth.

“Shh,” he soothes as he scoops you into his arms.

Grasping at him, your hands snake up into his lovely soft hair as your body comes down from the adrenaline rush of sexual release. “I really thought that would never happen, and then you manage to make me cum on the first try with zero experience. What are the odds?”

His unmodulated, gorgeous voice is whispering lowly in your ear, “I perform best when the odds are against me.”

“Wow, such a humble Mandalorian.” Chuckling, you turn your head and catch his earlobe between your teeth.

He makes a little noise as you nibble his ear, body shuddering. “Perhaps you were on to something when you said you’ve never had a true connection with someone. I know that this, how close I feel to you, is more tangible than any connection I’ve made since my parents died. It means quite a bit to me.”

You pull away from his ear to face him, in spite of not being able to see. “You’re not wrong. I don’t think I’ve ever felt this close to anther person, Din. I’m glad that black hole spit me out where it did.”

“Mm,” he hums, and you feel the vibration of it, “as am I.”

You rub your cheek against his, adoring the feeling of skin and hair against your flesh as well as the scent of your sex on him. Even if you truly never get to see what this man looks like, feeling him is more than enough for you and you know it in your bones. “Thank you for trusting me. I know that the decision to remove your helmet did not come lightly.”

“Thank you for honoring your promise.”

The two of you lay there for a moment, peppering each other’s faces with kisses. You kiss his forehead, accidentally bumping into one of his eyes at first. He chuckles, and the sound of his unmodulated laugh melts your heart.

“Din?”

“Yes?”

Fingers playing with his hair, you smile a little at him. If only you could see his facial expression. Then an idea strikes you, so you move to his lips again and feel what you assume is him smiling against your fingertips. “What does ‘cyare’ mean? You called me your ‘cyare’ several times. And I don’t think I’m going to pronounce this right but you also said something like ‘kah-tay-leer darasoom’? We haven’t gone over those phrases in Mando’a yet so I had no idea what you were saying. I remember you said something similar to the kid recently.”

Din doesn’t respond right away, instead he kisses you deeply while holding your blindfolded face in both hands. After a moment he pulls apart from you, and you can sense that he’s hovering an only an inch or so from your face as you feel his warm breath on your skin. The pad of his thumb traces your lips.

“Cyare means beloved,” you feel his fingers move some of the hair from your forehead, “and what I told you was ‘ni kar’tayl gar darasuum.’ Kar’taylir means to know, to hold in the heart. Adding ‘darasuum’, eternity, changes it’s meaning to ‘I will know you forever.’ Essentially it is our phrase for expressing love. As I said before, this connection means something to me.”

Your breath hitches in your throat, the realization of his confession hitting you so hard that anther of your soft sobs echos through the cockpit. It’s not lost on you that you can feel fresh, warm wetness on his own stubbled cheeks. Tears, you’re feeling Din’s tears. He just told you that he loves you and he’s weeping. You almost can’t wrap your head around it.

“Din,” you are so overwhelmed with emotion, feeling your own tears form as they soak into the blindfold. The part of you that is afraid to give yourself over to him, afraid of the risk involved in giving your heart to another, wants to stop you from expressing how you feel. “I…”

“You don’t have to say anything,” he whispers.

Cara’s advice echos through your mind, This life is too short not to get what you want out of it. You consider this for only but a moment, deciding that she was right and you cannot let yourself miss out on this. Yet something still feels off, and then it occurs to you, “Saying I love you just doesn’t feel right, like it means less to just say it in basic knowing there’s a beautiful way to say it in Mando’a. Say it slowly so I can hear the pronunciation.”

You feel Din hover just above your navel, placing a kiss to the flesh just below your breasts. “Ni,” his lips move between the soft peaks, “kar’tayl,” they migrate to your throat, “gar,” then he’s kissing you on the mouth again, “darasuum.”

“Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum, Din Djarin,” you whisper, lips spreading into the widest grin.

His face nuzzles into yours some more, sighing heavily before the sound morphs into a low chuckle. “I don’t know about you but I’m exhausted.”

“I wish we could sleep together like we did on Nevarro,” you say as you nuzzle him back. The smile on your face would have to be jackhammered off at this point, your heart is just too full of glee to for it leave anytime soon.

“Let’s try to sleep in the cot together,” he suggests, “I can’t be apart from you. Not right now.”

“Is the kid in his hammock?”

“Yes. It’ll be a tight fit but I think we can make it work.”

“It wouldn’t be the first tight fit we’ve had to deal with tonight,” you can’t help but joke, chuckling.

Din laughs, kissing you once more. This kiss is not deep, there are no tongues and the pacing is not feverish. His lips simply linger on yours for a long, loving moment.

“I need to put it back on, Cyar’ika,” he eventually says as he breaks apart.

Your chest aches a little, but you lift up to brush your nose against his once more. “Thank you for sharing this part of you with me. Will this be the only time I’ll ever get to feel you like this?”

“No,” he breathes, tone confident, “this will not be the only time.”

“Well until next time, then,” you say, pecking at him once more.

You feel him move away, and then after a moment his voice is once again being filtered through the modulator of his helmet. “It’s on, you can remove the blindfold.”

The cockpit had been dimly lit to begin with but everything seems incredibly bright as you slowly peel the damp fabric from your face and the visual world comes back to you.

Din is seated in front of you, once again wearing his helmet. You stare at him for a long moment, and suddenly none of what just happened feels real to you.

“Holy fucking hell,” you exclaim, giddy giggles bubbling up your throat. You long to cry out in elation, like when you used to go driving alone and joyfully scream in the sanctity of your car if you were in a great mood.

“You okay?” Din asks.

You nod, “more than okay.”

Din watches you re-dress, the two of you looking at each other as you pull the shirt over your head and hike the stretchy pants back up your legs. He’s sorry to see your body disappear behind the fabric, but sleep is starting to sound nicer than anything else. When you’re finished, you stand next to him with a hand outstretched. Din takes it, allowing you to help him up off the floor. He scoops up the blanket and hands it over to you, checking that everything with the ship is in order before motioning for you to start heading downstairs. He quickly cleans up the mess he’d made under the pilot seat and then comes to join you. As Din descends the ladder, he sees you standing there waiting for him with the blanket draped over your shoulders and a sleepy smile on your soft features.

“You’re a vision,” Din remarks as his feet touch the ground.

“Mm,” you hum, smiling at him. That lovely, kind smile that first caught his attention all those months ago on Nevarro. Maker, how far things have come. He’d been so annoyed when Karga coerced him into hiring you on as the nanny, and now he can’t imagine what his life would look like if he hadn’t.

“Let’s sleep, Cyar’ika.” Din says, tapping his forehead to yours.

“How’s this supposed to work?” You raise an eyebrow at him, grin cheeky.

Din peers into the thin sleeping cabin, noticing that the kid is still sleeping away in his little hammock above the bed. Jupiter has somehow managed to squeeze her way onto the thing with him, and the kid is using her as a sort of pillow. Admittedly, the scene is quite endearing.

“We lay on our sides,” Din shrugs, “you go in first and I’ll climb in after.”

“If you say so, Chrome Dome.” Chuckling, you crawl into the cot, laying on your side up against the right wall to give him enough space to enter.

Din kicks off his boots, bending forward to craw in with you. It’s certainly going to be a tight fit, but he thinks this may actually work nicely. He pulls himself all the way in, the door sliding shut once he’s inside. His body is already pressed to yours, so he carefully shifts around until he’s spooning up to your backside. One arm is tucked under his helmeted head, while the other is draped over you. You pull his hand into yours, tangling your fingers with his.

“Goodnight, Din,” you whisper in the darkness.

“Jate ca,” he whispers your name, “rest well.”

When Din awakes several hours later, his heart is so incredibly full that he’s not sure he could jam any more affection into it if he tried. You’re still out cold, but the kid has since migrated from his hammock to laying between you and the wall. One of your arms is curled around the foundling tightly, a content smile on your slightly parted lips. Jupiter has also relocated, as Din can feel her purring against the back of his helmeted head.

He should get up and start his day, but he instead closes his eyes once more and allows himself to feel happy for a long while.

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moralesispunk · 2 years

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Astra (Din Djarin x Female Witch! Reader)

Summary: For years Din has visited a farm in the outer rim. Sometimes he stays for one night, sometimes one week, but it’s where his heart lives and it’s becoming harder and harder for him to leave.

Warnings: smut, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, feelings, breeding kink, this is in third person but there are no physical descriptions of “her” other than she is female and the clothes she wears so I have labelled as reader insert as I hope it can come across that way (although please tell me kindly if not and I will edit to be x oc)

Word Count: 4.6k

A/n: a break from (ir)regularly scheduled programming for a different kind of Din fic. As of now it is one part but I may write more.

When he was a child, Din’s mother used to tell him about a planet on the outer rim called Terra. The planet had one moon, Astra, and a sky that was so clear at night you could see the surface or Astra alongside the millions of stars that shone brightly in the sky.

It is a fruitful planet, with tall trees and fields upon fields of green, but it had not always been. The story goes that years ago Terra did not have a moon and instead, at night, the sky was a blanket of navy with the stars that twinkled above. That had been until one day a star fell from the sky and crashed down to the surface, breaking off a piece of Terra that floated up into the night. That piece of rock became Astra and it shone brightly down on Terra every night.

Terra was heartbroken at this loss and each day that passed the desert planet turned into a fruitful one; the rivers that had been dry raged with her tears and the wind that had been still howled in pain as it carried the pollen to greener grass. She cried for hours and hours all day until finally the sun set and Astra could be seen high in the sky.

Terra would bask in her glow and even though they only had the night together it was long enough for the rivers and wind to calm and for the planet to bore life once more.

Whenever Din’s mother told him this story she held him tighter against her side, like she was scared that he would suddenly break away from her to never be seen again. Din had never quite understood her pain, not even when he lost both his parents and was left with only the memory of what they looked and sounded like; it seemed so foreign to him that you could be consumed with such grief of missing someone that you could no longer control the rage or anguish when you are no longer with him, but then he had met her and then he had lost Grogu.

Din would come to her house when the moon was already high in the sky, dragging his tired body through the forest towards her small home that she had built herself in a small clearing of trees at the edge of the farm. It was as though she always knew when he would be there, waiting in the garden below the night sky with flowers in her hands as she delicately wrapped the stems around one another into another of her beautiful decorations. He knew that she had sensed him long before she looked up, her gaze still focused on the flowers in her hand as the energy between them grew more and more intense until he stepped forward enough for the moonlight to bounce off his beskar and catch her eye.

The flowers would be forgotten for another day, picked up only when he left again, and she would gracefully push her weight up to stand. He always took a minute before stepping forward anymore - a moment just to look at her as the dress she wore fell around her calves and she waited at the bottom of the step to take his body into her arms.

When he finally made it to her, his forehead pressing against hers and her hands holding his between their bodies, they would wait. He never knew what they had been waiting for and it took him until his fourth time visiting before he realized that she never took him any further until his shoulders relaxed and he breathed out whatever violent bounty he had come from only to breath in the peace of her farm; only then would she wrap her hand around his wrist and lead her into the cottage behind her.

For the first night they would never leave the bed. He let her take off more of his armor than anyone before and she did so with steady hands, not a word said between them as they worked together to remove every last piece of beskar until he stood only in his helmet before reaching for her dress as he deftly pulled the straps on her shoulder until the fabric fell around her ankles and he took her into his arms.

More often than not the silence would stay for hours as he brought her pleasure again and again and again, until he finally crawled up her body and slipped inside when the feeling of coming home was enough to break the silence as he groaned in her ear,

“I missed you.”

She would never comment on how vulnerable he let himself sound, or the way his voice always broke at the end like he could finally let himself miss her in that moment even though he had her safely in his arms.

It was true though, in a roundabout way that not even Din could understand. He refused to let himself miss her every time he walked away, whether it had been after one night or a few - or that one blessed week he had been able to stay. He had only done it once before and it had been hard enough, he had been so consumed by her that he couldn’t focus on anything else, and so he refused to let the grief of not having her settle in until he knew, for sure, that she would be in his arms again.

There had always been weeks between their visits, often months, but this had been the longest he had gone without seeing her. The last time he had been here had been six months ago and there hadn’t been a single soul - droid or living - who had seen his face; he hadn't yet admitted to himself that the child in his care was one he loved like a son, though he didn’t need to when she saw the way he refused to take his eyes off the child thay ran about her farm; there had been no other, except for her and his Covert, who had known his name.

He still doesn’t know why he had told her his name so freely. It had slipped out almost two years ago, when his dedication to the way hadn’t been as uneasy as it was now, and he knew when he looked up at her with her hands resting on his chest as he was buried deep inside of her that he needed for her to know his name - for her to moan Din rather than Mando in that soft, siren voice that called out to him even when he was galaxies away.

He had willingly given her more than he had given anyone before and a month ago, for the first time in five years, he had let himself miss her.

The kid was gone now; he was with his people and he was safe. It was the right decision Din had repeated in his mind like a mantra but as he continued to silently roam the galaxy between whatever bounty he could find, he couldn’t help himself from missing her. Until the kid, Din had never wavered in believing that every decision he made was the right one, perfectly balancing the pros and cons before making a move, but he needed her to say those words; he needed her to look him in his eyes and tell him that everything would be okay.

He needed to feel anything other than this all consuming rage and pain as he cut through whatever stood in his way and lived bounty to bounty, day to day, without his son; he needed the kind of peace that he had only ever felt on her farm with her in his arms - when he knew that she was alive and well - and he traveled across the galaxy to where the calmness called.

It was a familiar feeling of excitement and trepidation that came during his travel to her - one that would take hold when he finally made the decision that he had to see her again. The excitement and pull to her always outweighed the worry but he couldn’t help those thoughts that would push in. He had sometimes worries that he would arrive and there would be another in his place, their eyes meeting as she fell into someone else’s arms, but then he would repeat the words that she had told him more than once as she lay in his arms: “you own my heart Din, you take it with you each time you leave, and so there is no one else who could have it”. Other times he worried that he would arrive and she would be gone - perhaps from sickness or a harsh winter, or those raiders that he had desperately saved her from once before would have brothers that returned to finish what they started, something that had rattled Din so deeply he almost never left again.

There were thousands of fears and worries that filled his mind until she was finally within touching distance and all of those thoughts were silenced.

He watched her for a moment between the trees and as always he knew that she could feel him there but she gave him the time to come to her. She always gave him time, always accepted what he could give - like when he came she would never ask how long he would be here or when she left he never asked when she would be back.

Her gaze stayed down on her lap, deft fingers working to create another flower decoration that he couldn’t quite make out from back here. The dress she wore today was white, almost creating a bright light around her under the moonlight, and it floated down around her hips and dragged ever so slightly in the dirt from where she rested on the top step. The sleeves billowed every so often in the slow breeze and he could see from here that the ties on her chest were undone, no doubt after a long day of working on the farm, and it was enough to give him a glimpse of the soft skin he had thought about kissing for years.

He had never seen anyone as beautiful as her. He had traveled the galaxy every which way, encountered more people than most, but there was never anyone who made his breath catch in his throat the way she did; no-one who had sent a warmth coursing through his body as his palms itched with the need to touch her.

It was only when he pushed off from the tree she finally looked up, her eyes not widening from surprise but rather softening as she placed the flowers down and pushed herself to stand. She walked down the steps, her bare feet pressing into the fertile ground that was ready to plant the summer crops - a cycle he had become accustomed to over the years - but for the first time she hesitated before reaching him as his hands came up to his helmet.

Her face was always perfectly calm, the tiniest hint of a smile on her mouth and eyes that always gazed into his visor in a way that was never intense but always telling him that she had been listening, but for the first time she looked shocked - even more shocked than she had been all those years ago when the injured Mandalorian had stumbled into her farm before collapsing on her crops and she had to spend three days nursing him back to health. He could tell she had always held a slight wall up between them, a practiced emotion on her face when he arrived and left as an acceptance as this for whatever it was, what it could never be, but Din could never be mad when he had built his own wall that he had never thought about tearing down, at least until now.

She jumped forward as his fingers wrapped around the edge of his helmet, her hands that looked so small when against him coming to rest on his elbow to stop his movement before it went any further, but when he nodded once she stood back ever so slightly and let her hands drop back to her sides.

Between now and the last time he had seen her he had given his name to so many others that he was unshaken when those three syllables left another’s mouth and his face had been seen by a few - though he had quickly placed his helmet back on to be hidden once more. She knew his name - had said it more times than anyone other than his mother and father - and now he wanted her to have this too.

As this beskar began to lift there was some nagging part of his brain that was trying to push those harmful thoughts to the front of his mind - what if she no longer wants you when she sees your face - but the rest of him had as much trust in her as she had in him and that part of his brain won as he slipped the beskar up and up.

When the helmet was finally off, his fingers digging into the beskar as he held it at his side, he held his breath. He didn’t breathe as she took a step forward, and then another, until her chest was pressing against his and she was pushing up on her toes to reach his face. Her palms pressed against his cheeks and the helmet was forgotten, landing with a thump against the ground as he rested his hands over hers. She traced every inch of his face, her soft fingers dancing across his stubbled jaw and pouting lips; over his cheekbones and nose that had been broken on more than one occasion; the corners of his eyes that held smile lines as permanent memories of his visits here. They could have been standing there for hours and Din would not have cared, all that mattered was for the first time he stared into her eyes, she stared back into his.

The pads of her thumbs wiped across his cheeks and as drops of water began to hit his neck it was the first time he realized that he had been crying, his head dipping down and mouth crashing against hers as he was overcome with the need to consume her. Her hands reached up and locked behind his neck and he bent down and gripped her thighs, wrapping her body around his as he carried her through the garden and into the cottage with the helmet still left abandoned on the grass.

It was the first time they had kissed and after years of imaging it, or thinking about it every night as he fell asleep, it was so much more than he had ever thought it could be. Her lips were soft, tasting of the sweet fruit from her garden, and with each moan that breezed by her parting lips and twined with his own whimpers he pulled her closer and closer against him like at some point they could merge into one.

It was the most heated they had been, hands fighting for dominance until it was skin against skin and she was laid bare on the bed as he towered over her.

“I need-” he broke the silence far earlier than usual - though nothing about this visit seemed usual for them. “I need to taste you; I have thought for years about finally tasting you.”

Her thighs parted at his words and his shoulders held them open as he settled between her legs, his hands shaking as they skimmed up the inside of her thighs until he was close enough to press a kiss where she needed him most. He had learned her over the years - knowing exactly what she needed and liked - but this was new and he needed her to feel as good as he did now; as free as she made him feel.

He wasn’t sure how skilled he was, his body seeming to take over as soon as he tasted her for the first time, but as her back arched and she moaned his name with her fingers buried deep in his hair he refused to let those nagging thoughts dominate any longer. He kissed, he licked, he tasted, he consumed her until she seemed to explode around him; this woman who was so delicate and kind bursting out, out, out until the whole room was filled with her loud moans and screams as her nails dug into his shoulders and suddenly he was being pulled up her body as her lips crashed against his.

Usually she would see the light of the moon shining across his helmet, catching it whenever he threw his head back with a moan and casting a flash of light around the room, but now she got to watch a whole other kind of beauty.

She got to see the way it cast along his profile; his strong nose and jaw, his soft lips and cheeks, his dark brown eyes that still held a beautiful lightness. She got to watch as his face contorted with pleasure as he slipped inside, everything from the bliss calm where his lips would part and his eyelids would flutter closed all the way to a concentrated high as he chased his peak with furrowed brows and a set jaw.

Sometimes when he came here, when his shoulders held a tension that just wouldn’t seem to go, she would tell him to “take what he needs.” She would let him handle her body until her face was pressed against the soft pillows and her hands curled into the sheets as he placed his large hand on the small of her back, his weight leaning over hers as she looked out into the stars from the window and listened to the beautiful sounds he made as each piece of frustration began to chip away. She could see the tension in his shoulders now but she didn’t want to look away and so instead dug her nails into his arms and tightened her legs around his waist as he continued to drill his cock into her.

Their eyes met and her ankles locked around his waist, his hips pressed tight to hers and instead of pulling out he just pushed in deeper and deeper. He had never spilled inside of her, had never risked creating a child that he would have to leave as often as he left her, but there was something different now.

The idea of settling in one place, or having a home and a family, no longer made him feel weak - it made him feel rich in ways he had never felt before. He had thought that to be strong he had to be independent and free but to have a clan of his own to protect? There was nothing more noble than that.

“I want to fill you.”

The words hung in the air, his face buried against her neck as he waited for her answer. Their bodies stilled for a moment, her body tensing under his, but then her fingers threaded into his hair and she lifted his head so she could gaze into his eyes.

“Please.”

She had never asked, much less begged, for anything from him. Not even when he held her pleasure in his hand for hours as he let his own frustrations wash away while teasing her; not when she let him rest in bed to sleep as she got up to start the day - something he had told her time and time again not to do and she should wake him up to work the land together; not even when he knew that him leaving each and every time broke her heart and that somewhere deep down she wanted to ask him to stay.

She had always been happy with as much as Din could give, until now. He had offered, let a thought he considered a weakness since he met her - a thought that had plagued his mind for years of returning home and raising children they created together in the peace of the farm - and she had welcomed it with open arms.

His eyes never left hers as he slipped his hand between their bodies, desperate to bring her to the edge with him one more time as he spilled inside her.

He couldn’t breathe when it finally happened; when her legs tensed and shook around his waist and his cock drove so deep inside her that her eyes rolled to the back of her head. He was so focused on her that his own high was an afterthought, his arms giving out as his stomach tensed with each wave and she chanted his name like a prayer to the moon.

Neither of them moved, not even as his cock softened and they both slipped in and out of sleep, but they both held each other close. After a while, when she groaned slightly from his weight that was holding her legs open wide, he finally moved and pulled her onto his chest. He kissed the top of her head and let his eyes roam around the room once he had covered her body with the bed sheet, his hand continuing to rub up and down her back.

Her home was simple - more one room than anything else - and he had always thought about building her more. He would never tear this down, this place that she had built with her own hands, but he wanted to make it bigger for them - for the family he had dreamt of. The walls were brick and there was a fire in the middle, one that only needed wood in the coldest of months, but all around there were small objects that had been collected over the years.

She had many visitors - none like him, she had always stressed - and they all brought her something with the promise that they could camp in her garden before they moved on. Some were rare herbs that she kept in jars and bottles - ones that all held different remedies that she would explain to him if he stayed more than one night. Some were good luck tokens, small gold and silver statues that were placed on the shelves. Some brought blankets and clothes and others food and drink.

It was more homely than anywhere he had been before.

He leaned across the bed with a slight groan, reaching his hand into the bag, which had been ripped off the second he stepped over the threshold, and he pulled out a rock. It was gray in the light of day, perfectly flat and large enough to fill the palm of her hand - because even though it only filled half of his as he bent down to pick it up and bounced it a few times he knew that second how it would compare to her, but when the moon shone against it the most beautiful blues and purples shone back. He held it out towards her and she reached out with a tired move of her arm, fingers brushing against his as she took it in her hand.

“Oh, Din,” she sighed, holding it towards the window where they both watched it change from gray to blue to purple as she twisted it back and forth. “It’s beautiful.”

They looked at it for a moment longer before she sat up and the sheets fell from her body, the moon casting over her skin as he sat up behind her and kissed along her shoulder and neck as she placed it carefully on the table beside her bed. There was a collection of rocks there, of all different colors and from all different planets but all given by the man who wrapped his arms around her now. She turned over her shoulder to kiss him, a messy kiss of thanks with their mouths that weren’t quite aligned, and Din hummed happily as he pulled their bodies back down onto the bed.

He loved that she kept all of his presents by her bed, one of the final things she would see every night, but it wasn’t his favorite part of her home.

His favorite part was that she had placed the bed in a way that there was a perfect view out of the slanted window into the night sky. As he pulled her back into his chest they were both staring out of the window now, the moon and twinkling lights shining down on them as she buried herself closer against him and he finally began to speak.

“They tell me I cannot see him.”

The words hung around the room for a moment and he squeezed his eyes shut, feeling her weight shift beside him as she rested her palm on his chest over his heart.

“I’m sorry, Din. I’m sure you will meet again.” She said it with such certainty - like she said with most things - that Din could not stop the way his body tensed under hers and he snapped back much too quickly.

“How do you know?”

She sighed - not in annoyance but in knowing that his reaction was defensive - and she began to trace circles down his ribcage. “Because I always know that I will see you again. You are a man of your word, Din Djarin.”

The words settled around the room as they both stared out the window.

“I wish-”

I wish there could be more. I wish that I was not damned with this responsibility. I wish that I could live a quiet life with you. I wish you could be my clan, too. I wish- I wish- I wish-

“I know,” she smiled up at him, her soft words able to silence his racing mind in a heartbeat as her hand came up to hold his cheek, “I wish it too.”

His hand covered hers, holding it in place as he turned his head to place a kiss to her palm, and the soft sigh that breezed past her lips made him close his eyes. When he finally opened them she was still looking into his eyes and his hand took the lead, bringing it down to rest over her stomach as her eyes widened ever so slightly.

Many people have trusted Din over the years; his Covert trusted him to respect The Way, Grogu trusted Din to protect him, everywhere he goes people trust Din to help them and she… she trusts Din to keep his word.

“I swear,” he lifted and pressed another kiss to her palm, closing her hand into a fist around his fingers as he brushed his lips across her knuckles and spoke his promise against her skin, “I swear one day I shall give you that.”

She did not answer, she did not have to, instead she pushed her weight up so she was resting by his head with her cheek in her palm and her elbow against the mattress, and she kissed him slowly.

Din doesn’t know when he can fulfill this promise, not with the darksaber that is resting on the table beside him or the child that is so far away - or the one that may have been made with love under the moon tonight, but he knows that he will. He always comes back and the next time, he will never leave again.

Notes: aaaaand I almost didn’t post this one because something about it felt so... personal? i’m not quite sure, but this is definitely different than anything I’ve put out there before so I do hope you enjoy